


Disenchanted Lullaby

by Incog_Ninja



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cheating, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gay Male Character, Lesbian Character, No Bella Swan, Romance, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 91,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Incog_Ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman's life was on the verge of absolute perfection—the ring, wedding bells, babies and lullabies. Then, one day, she learned Happily Ever After didn't really exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable elements contained herein belong to their respective owners.
> 
> Whedonverse fans: I have borrowed a few Whedon characters to help tell this story, but this isn't Whedonverse-related fanfiction.

 

I sat frozen on my bed, listening to Warner King tell me about a fatal car accident, and all I could think was…

 

_Royce is dead._

 

.......

 

The summer before my junior year at State University of New York, I met Royce King. He was charming, self-possessed and mature, and he had me wrapped around his little finger before the season’s end.

 

Royce was a law student in Buffalo, but he was sharing a lake house in Brockport with some friends for the season. A few nights a week, he and his friends would come into Aro’s, the restaurant and bar where I worked. Royce made his presence known with hefty tips and flattering comments--comments I considered to be flattering at the time. One night, as I set a pitcher of beer on his table, he told his friends about a dream he’d had where he bent me over the hood of his car. As embarrassed and angry as I should have been, I was too dazzled by his money and his looks, and the fact that he pursued me so aggressively. He made me feel so _wanted_.

 

Other boys--slobbering boys with no finesse or charisma--had certainly pursued me, but Royce was different. He didn’t follow me around like a fucking puppy dog or put me on a pedestal. He boldly told me, and everyone else, how hot I was (even if I could “stand to lose a few pounds”) and he had a bright future ahead of him in which I wanted to exist.

 

Looking back, I should have seen through his backhanded compliments and the condescending smirk that almost always played on his lips. I should have likened him to the bitchy girls I had grown up with, who told me I was fat and who cut the hair off my Barbie. My mom always said they were jealous, but it didn’t hurt any less. But Royce was smooth and cool as silk, and I was eager to find my prince.

 

Two months after we met, he went back to Buffalo for his final year of law school. On weekends he’d drive through Brockport to take me on trips to Rochester. We’d dine at the finest restaurants and stay in luxury hotels. He’d bring me flowers and lingerie and take me to parties to show me off. His friends would watch and whisper. I could see our future, painted in shades of brilliant gold and sprinkled with diamonds so bright everyone would have to fucking squint.

 

Most of my friends at work--Emmett, Alice, Angela--didn’t like Royce. Emmett said he didn’t trust him. I told Emmett he was just jealous because the girl he'd dumped _me_ for had dumped him and he was alone. Emmett stopped talking to me for a while after that. Alice and Angela claimed Royce hit on them when I wasn’t around. I convinced myself they were lying, and told them so. They were all just jealous, or so I thought at the time.

 

When Royce graduated and moved south to take a job with a law firm, I quit my job at the restaurant because he complained that he wasn’t there to keep an eye on me. I considered what to do next. Masters? Teaching certificate? Marriage and babies? Even though he hadn’t officially asked me to marry him, I assumed he would eventually, and we’d be just like my parents.

 

Dad, a successful attorney, and Mom, dedicated to staying at home to take care of me, cooking and baking, and sitting on all the right committees. Their relationship was ideal to me, and I wanted that for myself.

 

I dreamed that Royce would sink on bended knee and offer me his grandmother’s ring. The ring his brother Warner talked about like it was the highest fucking honor to give any woman. I couldn’t _wait_ to see it.

 

On the phone, I would tell Royce every day how much I missed him. I tried hard not to ask too many questions about what he had planned for us, though. He’d tell me not to worry, that I was right where I needed to be, and he had everything under control.

 

I fantasized about him giving me everything, making everything easy. I had paid my dues with mean girls, half-assed boyfriends, and fuck buddies. My time had finally come; I was mere months from beginning a beautiful life with wedding bells and blue-eyed babies.

 

One sunny Friday at the beginning of the first of my last two semesters in Brockport, I waited patiently for Royce and my weekend getaway. He was running a little bit late, so I began opening mail, tossing junk into my recycling bin and sorting bills, catalogues, and magazines.

 

I came across a letter from my advisor, informing me that I was going to have to do 40 hours of community service before I could graduate from my Psychology program. The letter included contact information for a few suggested organizations she thought would have “opportunities” within my “areas of interest.” My academic advisor seemed endlessly irritated by my lack of enthusiasm for my future endeavors, so it was slightly awkward to admit to her that my only real areas of interest were to get my degree, marry Royce, and live happily ever after. I had no interest in dicking around with community service when I had a life to plan.

 

I went into my bedroom to find my laptop for further investigation of my advisor’s proposed options. My research of the different organizations made me to lose track of time until I realized that Royce was officially three hours late with no phone call.

 

I began to get worried, so I called his cell. The call went directly to his voice mail, which could have meant that he was out of cell range, but I had a bad feeling. I decided to call his house, and no one answered. The voice mail greeting said that Royce, Jim, and Mike were not able to come to the phone and that I should leave a message. I didn’t leave a message. I just hung up, dumfounded. Something was niggling in my brain.

 

My last thought was to call Royce’s brother Warner. I had never called Warner, but he had once called me about six months before, so I had his number in my phone. I hit send and waited for him to pick up. Once he did, I began a phone conversation that validated the feeling of foreboding, trumping the irritation the letter I’d just received had caused. The conversation I had with Warner derailed any sub-conscious nagging questions I may have had regarding my ambition or lack thereof for volunteerism, or a career, or anything other than Royce.

 

“Are you sitting down?” Warner asked, his voice watery and faint.

 

I wasn’t sitting down, but his tone told me I should be. I sat on my bed and listened as Warner told me about a car accident that had happened the day before. Royce had been pronounced dead at the scene, and Elaine, _poor Elaine_ , died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

 

_Royce is dead._

 

Royce had been dead a full 24 hours before I knew. No one had even bothered to call me.

 

“He’d just given her our grandmother’s ring. Such a tragedy...”

 

Warner continued speaking, clearly unaware of my status in Royce’s life. I had no idea who Elaine was. I had no idea what Warner was talking about, but he kept talking, and I kept trying to listen, gripping the receiver tightly in my fist.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you… I just wasn’t sure how to tell you since I know you two were once close.”

 

Just last weekend I’d given Royce "the best blowjob" he'd ever had, right on the very bed where I was sitting. Just yesterday morning Royce and I had spoken on the phone about our weekend plans. I sat stunned, listening to the world disintegrate and fly apart around me.

 

_Royce is dead._

 

Clearly they were _all_ unaware of what was going on with Royce and me--especially Elaine. Sure, he’d stood me up before, but he couldn’t be _engaged_ to someone else. She couldn’t possibly know what I meant to Royce.

 

“Are you going to be all right, Rosie?”

 

Warner’s concern knocked me out of my stupor.

 

“I really have to go, now,” he said. “I need to get back to the families. I know you’ve never met my mother, but she has a tendency to be quite _vivid_ in her emotional responses.”

 

Cold dread enveloped me. It hit me, right then, that I had never met anyone in Royce’s family other than Warner. Royce had hidden me away. He’d had a whole other life going on without me. My heart was pounding in my ears. My fingers and toes were tingling. I forgot to breathe.

 

I could hear voices behind Warner’s over the line, and I tried to picture Royce’s parents’ home from the little I had learned from the brothers. I had always thought about Royce and my future engagement as an introduction and presentation to his family and their estate. I’d have been the belle of the ball in ruffles and bows, and Royce would sing rhapsodies of me to the King Family.

 

But I wasn’t, and I wouldn’t be. From the tone of Warner’s voice, that was never the intention. I was never, ever, in line to be Mrs. Royce King. The realization was stunning, and absolutely humiliating.

 

_Royce was engaged to someone who wasn’t me. Royce was dead. I’m… I wasn’t the only one. I’m not special. I’m alone._

 

I nodded in agreement, as if Warner could see my gesture. I went through the motions of someone with dignity and grace. I gave my condolences to the family. None for me. Why would I need consoling? I was just some fling.

 

My voice sounded foreign and uncharacteristically polite to my own ears, part of me silently screaming to ask Warner, or God, or whoever would answer me, what the _fuck_ was going on. My mind buzzed and my heart continued to pound, coursing cold blood through my veins, facts and words scattering around in my brain.

 

I laid down on the couch and let memories, thoughts, judgments, and words wash over me.

 

Warner had spoken to me on the phone as if I were nothing but an adverse side effect of Royce’s past social escapades. The _real_ family, the people who genuinely suffered, were together and supporting each other in their time of grief and loss.

_Who am I now that Royce is gone? Am I the grieving ex-girlfriend? The mistress? The dirty little secret he hid from Elaine and his mother? Did I have the right to mourn at all?_

_Oh, my God, Royce is… dead._

 

I curled onto my side and stared out my window as the sun set. He was dead, and I had to figure out what that meant. I was going to have to call my mom and explain. I couldn’t bear the thought of what she was going to say, how she’d react. She was going to be so disappointed.

 

As I drifted into unconsciousness, I pulled the pillow from under my head and hugged it tightly to my body, wet tears and darkness covering me in my sleep.


	2. Fairytales and Nightmares

_Royce was standing on the balcony of the hotel with his back to me. I could barely hear his voice through the half-open French doors. He was being quiet, smoking a cigarette, and hanging his head low. I heard the name Elaine and something about his tone of voice made me want to go out there, to know what he was talking about, but I knew I shouldn’t…_

 

_Instead, I turned away from the doors and headed to our master suite to wait for him.  I stripped down to my bra and panties, remembering that Royce liked to take off my bra himself. I felt a little anxious, wondering who he was talking to, what that foreign tone in his voice meant, how I could get him to speak to me that way…_

_When he came into the room, he seemed distracted, but only for a brief few seconds until his eyes landed on my chest..._

_“Hm,” he hummed and grunted before taking off his long sleeved button down he'd worn to dinner..._

_He walked closer to where I was lying on the bed, artfully posed, and he didn’t take his eyes off my purple lace bra. He licked his lips as he tossed the shirt across the room and climbed onto the mattress. I closed my eyes as his warm hands finally enveloped my breasts…_

 

I woke with a start. My heart was pounding again (or still--it hadn’t really stopped since the phone call) and I felt like I'd forgotten something. I felt an urgency to get out of bed and do something important _rightfuckingnow_.

 

As I further awakened, I realized I hadn’t forgotten anything at all, but it was the third night in a row that I had dreamed of Royce talking about Elaine right in front of my nose and of my blatant ignorance of his absolute disregard for anything other than my body.

 

I slowly untangled myself from my covers and felt the air hit my sweat-dampened tank top, cooling my skin. Jimbo, my tiger kitty shot out from under the covers with a yelp.

 

“Sorry!” I called after him as my feet hit the rug.

 

I must’ve kicked him awake. I resolved to give him some extra tuna later as an apology.

 

I stood and stretched, feeling my back pop with that satisfying sound and feeling of vertebrae snapping into place. I found my slippers and shuffled into them on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

 

Increasingly substantial yet haunting thoughts began to slowly seep into my brain.

 

Royce was dead, and I was alive. I was also a plain, ordinary, and unmotivated undergrad with no place to go when I finished school. I had no plan and no clue how to be an adult. I had no idea what I was going to do without Royce. Just his presence alone was enough to give me hope for a future, to give me hope that someone _might_ love me and want me.

 

These dreams were no good for my sanity. The night I found out about Royce’s death, I’d had a dream that a zombie was out in Esme’s garden, trying to find his way into my apartment above her and Carlisle’s home. I went to the store for some OTC sleeping aid, which always knocked me into a dreamless sleep, but only for a handful of hours. Then I would wake up panting, heart racing, and nothing to help me alleviate my anxiety.

 

My kitchen was warmer than I kept my bedroom, but I was still shivering, wondering where I’d left Royce’s old hoodie the night before. When I finally spotted it tossed haphazardly over the arm of the couch, I recalled the embarrassing and surreal conversation I’d had with my mom the previous night.

 

Before I realized it, I was telling her not only about the accident, but also about Elaine. Then I told her about the other girls that I never dared admit existed until that very moment of truth with Mother Hale on the phone.

 

_“Well, it’s just terrible… but you’re so strong, Rosie. I know you’ll be okay, but… it’s just terrible.”_

How she knew I’d be okay was beyond me. I didn’t feel okay. I felt fractured and unstable, ready to crumble into dust. I felt humiliated and foolish for playing house in my head. I felt pathetic for wanting that unattainable storybook life so fucking much that I was willing to lay myself vulnerable to him in so many ways.

 

Confessing the facts of the car accident and Royce’s other women to my mother was a bit of a load off--I always felt better after confession, such a selfish thing--but her intensely emotional reaction heaped another load of pressure onto me.

 

My mom, and most everyone else I knew, saw what she wanted to see. In her eyes, I was everything she wanted me to be--everything she wanted herself to be. So she told me I was strong and could handle anything just to get her own self through rough times.

 

I searched for the words I wanted to say to her. I wanted to tell her I couldn’t do this--not alone, anyway. But it was hard to admit so much failure in one day. I had failed to keep Royce from finding someone better to marry, and I was a failure at figuring out how to feel about it all.

 

So I just listened as my mom cried. She cried about the loss of Royce and his poor family’s grief. She cried over the loss of such a young and promising soul. She cried that she had been so wrong about him. She was heartbroken, and it was too late for me to shield her, or anyone else, from that.

_“I really thought you two would make a go of it.”_ _She sighed and cleared her throat._ _“But… you’ll be fine. You’re such a strong girl, Rosie.”_

She kept up her mantra mantra and had convinced herself that I could handle anything--that I’d be fine. As her tone of voice evolved from abject sadness to bereft ambiguity and finally to calculating resolve, I knew she was concocting a story in her mind; one she could tell that was much easier to live with than the one I had told her.

_“Such a sad, sad tale,” she asserted._

In Lillian Hale’s tale of woe, Royce hadn’t cheated on her daughter. As a matter of fact, Royce and I were both victims! Royce’s family forced him into this merger with Elaine for social or political reasons. He could have had a successful career, and I could have given him beautiful children, but before we were able to defy his parents’ plan, tragedy struck. In the story she invented, Royce was a martyr and her daughter was left bereaved and forlorn; a young couple had been denied true love.

 

These are the kinds of stories she would make up to tell her friends. It was no wonder from where I got my delusional thoughts that Royce would want to marry me. I had done the same thing with Riley, Alice, and Emmett. Creating fairytales ran in our family, apparently.

 

I sighed to myself as I stood in front of the sink, rolling my head from side to side, trying to work out the knots in my neck. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap then sipped the cool water with my eyes closed. I willed my heart rate to calm and allowed myself to be lulled by Jimbo’s kitty sounds as he drank from his water dish.

 

_Lap lap lap lap lap…_

 

When I was in High School, and then later when I had my own dorm room in college, I’d pop in my earbuds and do some kind of cardio on the rare occasion insomnia would strike. Being housed directly above a young married couple, one of whom was in his third year of residency, kind of put a lid on my ability to jump around to Gaga at four o’clock in the morning, though.

 

I finished my drink and slouched against the curved granite of the countertop. I had zero energy and would need to find some motivation to get out of the house later today and show my face in public. Jimbo needed kitty litter, and I was completely out of Ben & Jerry’s of any kind. But first I needed to get a few more hours of sleep. I decided a shower and a change of something that wasn’t soaked with sleep sweat might relax me.

 

I walked back into my bedroom, and Jimbo followed, his collar jingling in time with his steps. As he hopped up onto the bed, I smiled, reaching into my chest of drawers for clean pajama pants and another tank top.

 

Royce and I had found Jimbo on the beach the summer we met. He had a broken paw, broken ribs, and several gashes. At the time, I thought it was sweet the way Royce and I worked together to nurse him back to health. At the end of summer, Jimbo came to live with me since Royce’s fraternity house didn’t allow cats. Looking back, I realize it was me who took care of Jimbo all along, paying his vet bills, buying his food and medicine, cleaning his box, making sure he didn’t get outside to be mangled by another fox or, worse yet, a coyote.

 

“You’re a tough little guy.”

 

I lightly patted his head, and he blinked up at me with his one remaining eye. He was so trusting and loving, like he looked up to me.

 

I thought about my parents and how I looked up to them as a little girl. Their life was a fairytale romance, and they were best friends. Even as a child, it was clear to me that my mom wanted a life as perfect as her own for me. She was beyond mortified by my tomboy ways as a child--trying to take my shirt off in public because it was hot, or pee outdoors because I didn’t want to come inside from playing in the dirt and with the boys down the street.

 

Mom would have preferred me in a pink tutu and satin slippers, playing with Dawn and Sissy, but they were never nice to me. They said my Barbie’s hair was “too long and too blonde.” They laughed at me when I split my pants in the sixth grade and told everyone that I was too fat to even wear a dreaded _size seven_. I didn’t tell my mom exactly how they treated me, but I did tell her I didn’t like playing with them.

 

Boys were, in many ways, easier for me--less emotional, less intimidating, less likely to stab me in the back--than any girl in my neighborhood or at school.  Boys seemed more honest, and I was readily accepted into their private clubs, so to speak. I was always chosen to be the patient when we played doctor, encouraged to show first when we played Show Me Yours, I’ll Show You Mine, and every boy in the neighborhood had his first kiss with me.

 

I thought Royce was the best boy ever. And he was; boys are just as back-stabbing as any mean girl out there. I was just too blind to see it.

 

I stripped out of my pajamas and tossed them in the hamper on my way to the bathroom. Once my feet felt the radiant tiles, I silently thanked Carlisle for installing them in the bathroom. I turned the knobs to almost scalding in the shower and secured my hair on top of my head before climbing under the spray.

 

**~~~**

 

_“What’s your mom’s name?” I asked Warner as we stood around Royce’s kitchen table at the lake house._

_We’d been coloring eggs for Easter, but I got bored and decided to make a bonnet out of construction paper and ribbon. I was trying to be nonchalant about asking, since Royce had always been so close-to-the-chest with family information, even when Warner was around._

_“Mary,” Warner answered then looked up from the unstained egg in his hand on which he’d scrawled his initials in white crayon. “Royce hasn’t told you much about our family, has he?”_

 

I never acknowledged the fact that while I shared even the shallowest of details and personal information with Royce--silly stories of my childhood, my aggravation with my professor who continued to make passes at me, the fucking _names of my parents--_ he had never shared anything of importance with me. I tried and tried to get him to open up because I _knew_ we were right for each other. I thought if I shared things with him, he’d share with me in return.

 

After my shower, I made a cup of tea and took it to the bedroom to try and rest. I tucked under the blankets with the Tension Tamer and my worn copy of _Delta of Venus_.

 

For my last birthday, Riley and Alec threw me a Henry Miller and Anaїs Nin themed party. Everyone who attended was asked to dress in vintage clothing--lots of beautiful lingerie, suits, pearls and shoes to die for. The boys gave paperback copies of _Tropic of Cancer_ and _Delta of Venus_ as door prizes. It was a night of indulgence, for sure. We drank champagne and danced, and not  a single person left that party without at least one good groping.

 

I was consistently overwhelmed with Riley’s dedication to me. Even through that awkward time where I clung to him, hoping desperately that he’d either wake up straight one morning or decide that having a wife didn’t negate his status as a gay man, he always made me feel special and loved.

 

He told me I was the hottest girl in our dorm and laughed with me at the slobbering boys who he said _wished_ they could be with me. Riley and I spent our freshman year, lying around on his couch, talking smack about everyone we knew. He demanded that I was beautiful, sexy, _better_ than all the girls who thought I was ridiculous, rolling their eyes at my platinum hair and red lipstick, and sneering at my tattoos.

 

One night when Riley and I were drinking in his dorm room and comparing ink, we ended up kissing. Kissing led to touching and touching led to other things. Sex with Riley was very different than it had been with my high school boyfriend, the Mayor of 30-Second Fuck Town. Sex with Riley was hot and fun and experimental. And, God, he made me come so hard, made me feel so fucking good about myself, so sexy, free, happy.

 

Then my stupid girl brain, the one that believed all of Royce’s lies, dreamed up a future with Riley: what our babies would look like, what kind of house we would live in, and what salary he could bring as an architect. ~~W~~ hen Riley came out of the closet, we remained friends; I loved him, after all, and he loved me. He just didn’t want to marry me.

 

I shook my mind free of obsessive thoughts of a perfect love life and Happily Ever After. I tried to breathe deeply and just sip my tea, but my mind was crowded with memories of Royce telling me I was sexy, sloppy, cute, loud… I was really good at burying his insults in his compliments. No matter how wrong someone was for me, I would make them _right_ in my mind.

 

I set my teacup aside and dozed off, making lists in my semi-sleep of things to do that day. I would go to the store and to class, pick up my mail. In between dozing and planning, I worried about what my friends would say when I told them what had happened and that I wasn’t going to Royce’s funeral, that I wasn’t even invited. What would they think? That I’d made up the fantasy life in my head?

 

_Poor Rose, thought he loved her enough to marry her. Silly girl. Will she ever learn?_

 

I tossed and turned and in my anxiousness, I could hear Jimbo purring softly next to me. At 7:30, I finally gave up and climbed out of bed for the day. I mentally ran down my To Do list once more and quickly added  _stop making shit up in your head_ to the list.

 

**~~~**

 

“Special delivery!” Esme smiled through the screen door, upbeat and chipper as always.

 

I had skipped my morning classes and only ventured out to the grocery store for necessities. Esme was the only person I knew, besides my mom, who I had spoken to since I found out about Royce.

 

When I welcomed her through the door, I noticed she was carrying a cylindrical package in one hand, and garden gloves in the other.  I didn’t think I wanted to know what was in the package.

 

“Looks like it’s from that man of yours.”

 

Esme handed me the package with Royce’s name and return address scrawled on the label. Her face and voice were light and pleasant, but her words made my stomach spin and drop.

 

Carlisle and Esme were such generous people. Esme had taken to bringing me leftovers, claiming that she’d cooked far too much for she and Carlisle to eat. Of course she knew I lived alone and rarely had visitors except for Royce, or Riley and Alec, and that I didn’t really cook for myself. I’d usually pick up a salad on my way home from class or the gym. I had desperately hoped the package was something nice from her and Carlisle. No such luck.

 

I stared at the brown cardboard tube in my hand and wondered if Royce had packaged it himself. Had his hands placed the contents inside the tube just days before? Had he dropped it off at UPS while Elaine waited in the car?

 

“Aren’t you going to open it, sweetie?” Esme asked.

 

I moved with robotic precision, opening the flaps at the end, pulling the roll from its container to reveal a Dave Matthews poster with a handwritten note. Royce was a fan, and we’d been to a few concerts together.

 

I turned and flattened the poster on the surface of the mostly bare kitchen island. The edge of it bumped against the fruit basket that held a single, spotty banana. Dave’s face was beaded with sweat and bathed in blue light. He looked surreal and zombielike, reminding me of my dream.

 

“He’s dead,” I muttered, my eyes blurring at the image vibrating from the kitchen island.

 

I was unable to read the writing on the small, curled note card Royce had included. I heard myself say the words, repeating the phrase _he’s dead_ in my mind, to convince myself that it was true. But with the items in my hands it felt like he could walk in the door at any second, call me Rosie, and crack a joke about the stupid look of shock I must’ve had on my face.

 

“Who…?” Esme asked. “Oh, my God, Rose.”

 

She rushed to my side and draped an arm around my shoulders, cooing comforting words I couldnt bear to hear. The room was spinning, and I was unsteady on my feet. It didn’t matter anymore what Esme or anyone else thought of me, because Royce was fucking _dead_. I crumpled the note in my hand and wandered to the sofa.

 

“Rose, tell me what happened,” she quietly pleaded as we settled into the cushions.

 

My apartment was sparsely furnished and mostly unadorned. I had only been living there for four months and wasn’t planning to settle in because I _just fucking knew_ Royce  and I would build a life together. I knew he would take care of me.

 

“So fucking stupid,” I whispered, shaking my head. “He was _engaged_.”

 

“He… what?” Esme bristled, a frown of confusion, and probably disgust at my ignorance, marring her gentle features. But she didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, she squeezed reassuringly with both hands.

 

“I don’t understand, Rose. What happened?”

 

“I wasn’t…”

 

I was miserable at trying to explain the situation I’d weaseled my way into. Explaining that I was a pathetic loser who pretended to be something I wasn’t was humiliating, but if I couldn’t convince my mom or explain it to Esme, I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, and I had to start telling the truth.

 

“Warner, Royce’s brother and I talked on Friday afternoon...”

 

I swallowed my pride and reiterated what Warner had told me, right down to the part where I was the other woman.

 

“Royce was in a car accident. He and his _fiancée_ were headed for a weekend in the city… probably registering for china, or something.”

 

I heard Esme gasp, but I continued.

 

“They were hit head-on by a semi that lost control and came across the median. Neither of them survived. I don’t know about the truck driver.”

 

Esme stared at me like no one ever lies and dies and leaves people behind.

 

“Well, you sound very… resolved?”

 

Esme tilted her head to look into my face. I couldn’t really read her expression, except the tinge of uncertainty around the edges of her frown. I must've been doing that thing again, sounding sure of myself when I'm lost, that makes people think I'm better than I really am.

 

“Tell me how you’re really feeling about this,” she said, her voice quiet.

 

I felt numb and unreal. I felt like I was in a dream that I couldn’t wake up from. I was starting to feel like I’d crumble or be smothered, and I wanted to hit something.

 

“I’m fine,” I answered, pulling my hand from her grasp.

 

I stood up and moved to the island where I’d let my soup get cold. There sat the note Royce had included in the package.

 

_Who’s the KING of your satellite castle?_

 

He thought he was so fucking clever with that joke. I started it, actually, but he wrote that on every note he ever sent to me with flowers or lingerie or candy.

 

“His last name is King,” I scoffed, bitter and fragile, like a rotten fucking egg. “It’s a play on words.”

 

I showed Esme the card when she came up beside me again. She took the card and read it slowly. She eyed me with an arched brow and took a deep breath.

 

“You just found out he was engaged,” Esme surmised. “You called his brother and he informed you Royce’d been in an accident then just happened to _mention_ Royce was also engaged.”

 

I hadn’t ever seen Esme be anything but polite and gracious. I had certainly never seen her with scowl on her face like the one that sat there now. It was short-lived, however, as she softened and reached a hand out to smooth the damp tresses that hung limp around my face.

 

“Oscar Wilde said those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love,” she said with a less cynical smile. “He said it’s the _faithless_ who know love’s tragedies.”

 

She paused again, taking a deep breath then sighing.

 

“I think he was full of shit because _anyone_ who’s ever known love at all has known tragedy, it’s the nature of it, right?”

 

Esme studied me for a moment, boring into me--my heart and my soul.

 

“It just takes a while for some people to acknowledge such a thing.”

 

I stood and watched as Esme unfolded before my eyes, becoming more than the kind woman to whom I paid my rent and who occasionally brought me leftover fried chicken.

 

“I know we aren’t close, Rose, but I’d like to share a story with you if you’ll listen?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Do you mind if I make us some tea?” she asked, glancing around the kitchen. “Do you have tea?”

 

I nodded again, and she crossed the room to my stove to pick up the water kettle.

 

“My first husband is in prison,” she began to speak, looking pointedly over her shoulder in my direction while filling the teakettle with water.

 

I was in awe as Esme proceeded to tell me the story of her own high school sweetheart who was jealous, then possessive, then abusive, until he put her in the hospital with three stab wounds and blunt force trauma to the head.

 

“Luckily he’s shitty with a blade and Carlisle’s dad was an amazing surgeon.”

 

Her calm voice belied the words and their implications. I thought about what this story meant, what kind of person Esme must be. I stared dumbly at her as she handed me a cup of tea.

 

“I’d built a case against him based on 19 months of escalated abuse. He was put away for attempted murder.”

 

Esme sat down next to me, and I couldn’t see a girl who would allow someone to violently abuse her. I tried to imagine what that girl would look like. Then, it occurred to me that she was also the same girl who built a case against the abusive boyfriend and sent him to jail. Esme was a badass, and _that girl_ could look like any one of us.

 

To think I was so worried about what she’d think of me, but the minute she confided in me with her own story, I began to judge her. I was so fucking hypocritical. Esme was the same person I knew when she walked in the door. She’d simply let me peek beneath the layers of calm and happy that she had somehow earned.

 

“That’s incredible,” I mumbled, my lips hovering in the Jasmine steam.

 

I wondered how she had gotten here, to this place of light after living in such darkness. I decided to file away my questions for another day, though, when I wasn’t exhausted and confused, and when Esme wasn’t feeling sorry for me.

 

“My point is, we all have tragedy in some form, we just have to decide how to get past it.”

 

“Makes sense,” I agreed.

 

“You have a lot to work through with this, Rosalie.”

 

She was kind, but very serious. I nodded, accepting her careful words.

 

“Please promise me, and yourself, that you’ll take good care.”

 

“I will,” I responded.

 

I didn’t know what else to say, really. It had been such an emotional morning after a truly shocking weekend. Though, talking with Esme made me feel more connected to reality than I had in days.

 

“I know a very good therapist if you’re looking for a reference,” Esme said. “I think you’ll find it easier to sort through some things in your mind with an objective listener.”

 

Even though I was a Psych major, I hadn’t considered therapy for myself, but I thought she might have a point. We sat in silence for a few comfortable moments, sipping our tea, looking like a _Lifetime Movie_ ad.

 

“Thanks for the talk,” I said. “I miss having someone to talk to.”

 

I thought about talking to Riley. I loved Riley, but he had a tendency to be a judge-y bitch, and he _hated_ Royce. Then I thought of Alice, but quickly put that out of my mind. I told Esme I would call the person she had referred to if she’d give me the information.

 

When we finished our tea, I walked Esme to the door where she hugged me and kissed my cheek. She asked me to come to dinner on Thursday, saying that it would giver her time to reach out to her therapist friend and see if she was taking new clients.

 

“You call me if you need anything before that, okay?”

 

She held my face in her hands and smiled.

 

“I’ll come to pick you up, kick somebody’s ass, whatever you need.”

 

I laughed and thanked her, ushering her out the door, and agreeing to come down and actually sit at her and Carlisle’s dinner table and eat with them later that week.

 

Carlisle was outside with some other guy. They were both shirtless and doing a crappy job of washing Esme’s Volvo, but they were laughing hysterically at a very large dog, who was running around trying to avoid being sprayed with a hose.

 

“Who’s that?”

 

“That’s Edward, my brother in law,” Esme answered. “He’s Carlisle’s younger brother. Just moved here from Chicago about six weeks ago.”

 

Carlisle’s younger brother was tall and lanky and covered in tats--one full sleeve, another partial, and a Celtic cross on the broad expanse of his back. His hair was darker that Carlisle’s, but that could've been because he was so wet.

 

Watching his colorful skin glisten with water under the sun was making me feel things that no woman in mourning should feel.

 

“See you Thursday for dinner?” Esme asked.

 

“Yeah,” I answered, absently, thinking I needed another nap. Or a shower.

 

She winked at me and trotted down the stairs, calling out a thank you to the guys for washing her car before squealing and running from her brother-in-law’s watery wrath.


	3. Forks and Bumps in the Road

I couldn’t stop thinking about Alice after my conversation with Esme. I wished, not for the first time, that I hadn’t driven Alice from my life. She was so fun and such a good person, and the only female friend I’d ever really trusted. But I threw her away.

 

I had burned so many bridges because of my total absorption into my fantasy of Royce King. I'd convinced myself it was going to be perfect, and I didn’t want to hear anyone tell me it wasn’t.

 

The slightest hint from Alice that she thought Royce’s treatment of me was less than ideal had me retaliating with vicious insults. I told her whatever that she had to say was invalid, because she was a lesbian. In so many words, I told her she would never understand my relationship with Royce, that he was the _real deal_ for me, not just some fuck buddy. I told her that she was just jealous of me and bitter, because she was wasting her time playing with girls. I called her a coward and accused her of resenting me for having something real.

 

The Tuesday after Royce’s death, I paced my living room, debating. I finally came to a stop in front of the television and took a series of deep breaths as I scrolled through the contacts in my phone. When I found what I was looking for, I stared at the screen for a full 60 seconds before finally tapping the number for Alice Brandon’s cell phone. I stood still, listening to the tone buzz in my ear.

 

Alice answered on the third ring with a singsong voice that made my heart hurt. It was the kind of voice that said, “I’m excited to hear from you!” not a one that said, “Hi, Rose. You’re a terrible person. Why the fuck are you calling me?”

 

I assumed she must’ve gotten a new phone and not entered me into her contacts, or maybe she’d ignored the number on the caller ID, or she’d deleted me at some point, because there was no way she knew it was me who was calling. I didn’t even know where she lived anymore, which made me feel stupid for missing her at all. It was pretty pathetic to miss someone so terribly who I’d just tossed away so carelessly.

 

“Hey,” I greeted her. “It’s Rose.”

 

I bit my lip and waited for her to hang up on me.

 

“Oh, my _God_!”

 

Alice’s whispered exclamation held warmth and inquisition like only Alice could.

 

“It really is you,” she squealed. “Rose, what is going on with you, sweetie? It’s been so long!”

 

Then suddenly there was a muffled sound on the other end of the line and then Alice shouted, “I’m on the phone! It’s _Rose_.”

 

I couldn’t help but smile with relief and then longing, wishing so much that she were close to me at that moment. Alice always exuded such fervor, and I could feel it through the phone, full and bursting with passion. Even from miles away she surrounded me like a cloud, ready to shower me with joy. I had really, really missed her.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Is this a bad time? I can call back-”

 

“No!” Alice cut me off. “Don’t you dare hang up. Tell me where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing, Sweet Gypsy Rose.”

 

I smiled at her nickname. She had taken to singing that old song to me during long shifts at work or when I was generally cranky. She once bought me one of those anklets with bells on it at some hippy festival she went to, all because of the line in the song about “bells on her toes”.

 

“Well, I’m still in Brockport, finishing up my last semester,” I told her, walking to the couch and burrowing into the cushions.

 

I listened to the sounds of recognition from her end of the line and continued talking slowly, remaining as calm as possible. “I moved into a new apartment, and my landlords are totally awesome.”

 

“That’s great.” Her voice was sunny and smiley. She told me about her apartment in the city and her new girlfriend, Jane. She and Jane had been seeing each other for about five months and had just moved in together. Alice seemed pretty content with that.

 

Then there was a brief, awkward silence. I could tell Alice was about to say or ask something that made her hesitant and uncomfortable. 

 

“How’s Royce?” Her voice was light, but tight and high-pitched. I sensed she wanted to be supportive, but Royce had always been a rare source of contention for Alice and I. He was the only person, place, or thing that we ever argued about.

 

“Dead,” I replied, short and sweet, with tears welling in my eyes. “He was killed in a car accident three days ago.”

 

Telling Alice about Royce was different than telling my mom or Esme, because Alice knew him the same way I did. Even though I would have given anything in my life to be his wife, I knew just as well as Alice did what kind of person Royce was and how he always managed to hurt me. Until now, I had always buried it though, and Alice wasn’t going to let his asshole past get in the way of being my friend.

 

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Give me your address. I’m on my way.”

 

**~~~**

 

I had met Alice at a housewarming party for Riley and the three other boys he’d decided to move in with our sophomore year in college. We all did too many shots of Patron that night, and Alice held my hair while I puked and cried about how I’d turned Riley gay. She laughed at the declaration, but not at me.

 

Alice wasn’t at _all_ like other girls I’d known. She was genuine and attentive. She didn’t judge me or anyone else. She even shared secrets with me.

 

I told her about my first kiss, about my high school boyfriend, about Dawn and Sissy scrawling _Rosalie Hale is a fat whore_ on a bathroom wall in the 8th grade. She told me about her adopted cousin Bella, who she fell in love with in the 5th grade, her long-dead Jack Russell named Charlie, and the fact that her left leg was six centimeters shorter than her right leg.

 

Alice used to tell me I was a good friend--loyal, protective, honest. I don’t know how she knew anything like that about me, but I loved that she said it. She made me feel good about myself. She made me feel strong and bold, like I could do anything. She certainly wasn’t afraid of anything, and she didn’t try to manipulate people or situations.

 

The difference between Alice telling me that I was something really great and my mom telling me I was something great was that I believed Alice. I also never felt like Alice was telling me I was a good friend to benefit herself. She just seemed to want me to know that I was a good person in her eyes.

 

We worked together at Aro’s and we had the same nights off from the restaurant. On Fridays we would go to the karaoke bar down the road. One night, after four rounds of piña coladas she leaned across the center console in the front seat of my car and kissed me. That night I decided it wasn’t such a bad thing to kiss a girl. I’d never considered it before, but Alice was sweet to me and soft, and I loved the way she smelled. She tasted like pineapple, and was warm all over.

 

Alice didn’t have a place to live that semester, so she crashed in my dorm room for the remainder of the year. I agonized over how to tell my parents about Alice and me, but she said it didn’t matter. She said we had each other and we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. When my mom visited, I told her, and she loved her. Everybody loved Alice.

 

When her grandmother got sick, she had to move home. The distance and her familial obligations created such vast space between us that I sought comfort elsewhere, with our co-worker and friend, Emmett. If Alice ever felt betrayed by my decision, she never told me so. As a matter of fact, we never discussed _us_ even after she came back to school.

 

In preparation for Alice and Jane’s visit from New York, I dragged myself out of mourning and to the grocery store. I wandered up and down the aisles, filling my basket with chips and guac, crudités and dip, bagels and cream cheese, yogurt and ice cream before hurrying to the self-checkout.

 

I really should have thought twice before wearing my camouflage cargo pants. Not only was I absolutely positive the guy with the buzz cut two lanes down was pissed at me for disrespecting our soldiers in Iraq, but my thighs were way too huge to pull off the bulky pockets with any shred of dignity. I paid for my groceries, stopped at the liquor store, and was home just in time to tidy up for my guests.

 

Alice showed up on my doorstep six hours after we’d disconnected our call. She and Jane had driven straight to Brockport. Alice hugged me tight before she even dropped her bag.

 

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Jane,” Alice said as we rocked in my doorway.

 

“Of course not,” I replied.

 

I didn’t mind... Not that I needed another reminder of my personal failure to retain a person’s interest in me for more than thirty seconds and another person’s subsequent success in that area, but I was sure Jane was lovely.

 

**~~~**

 

I was convinced that Jane was either a psycho killer, or that she hated me. She had the most disturbing facial expressions when she wasn’t staring blankly off into space. Thankfully, we had liquor.

 

“Rose, you did not _turn him gay_ ,” Alice said. “He was _always_ gay, he just took a little detour for you, that’s all.”

 

Alice grinned and sipped her wine. I knew, now, that I hadn’t turned Riley off of women, but I always joked about it with Alice.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Not even the gayest of the gays can resist the gravitational pull of my rack.”

 

“It’s true.” Alice nodded. “You have amazing breasts, Rose.”

 

I wondered if Jane would be jealous that Alice liked my tits, but she just went on about her business as if nothing had been said. She finished her wine and asked if we wanted refills before she got up off the floor and wandered into the kitchen. She pulled bottle number three from the rack, and I realized I was getting pretty drunk. I felt warm all over from the wine and conversation, though, so I didn’t stop her when she started to crank open the bottle of Pinot Noir.

 

“Your neighbors are in the hot tub,” Jane said, gazing out the kitchen window.

 

I knew she wasn’t talking about the Cullens, because they were gone for the night. She was talking about the football players who rented the house next door. Alice and I got up from the floor, giggling at our drunken wobbliness, and joined Jane as she crossed the kitchen to get a better look at the guys outside.

 

“Looks like fun,” Jane said.

 

My brain kind of fuzzed over. It could’ve been Jane’s power of suggestion, it could’ve been the alcohol, but the next thing I knew we were all in our bras and panties in the hot tub with four SUNY football players.

 

“Seth’s the baby of the bunch,” Sam said. “Just 18-years-old, right Seth?”

 

Seth was adorable and sweet. He smiled a lot, and yeah, he was young, but he was hot, too.

 

“Yeah, but I can take _you_ , old man,” Seth joked with Sam and splashed water in his face.

 

I had noticed Sam in the neighborhood before. He was big and muscular, and his swagger made me stare way too long. His build reminded me of Emmett, but Sam didn’t act like Emmett at all. Sam was intense, and his girlfriend Leah, who showed up around midnight, was even more intense.

 

“Party’s over, folks.” Leah smirked from the doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest.

 

Every guy in the tub looked afraid for his life at that moment. Leah glared at me with an arched brow, her eyes tracing my tattooed arms then shooting to my hair piled on top of my head. I’m sure I looked a mess, and I doubt she loved that I was practically sitting in Sam’s lap, but she could kiss my ass.

 

“Hey, baby, you’re home.” Sam was suddenly reduced to a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “Everybody, this is Leah.”

 

I snorted, and Alice kicked me under the water. We all said hi to Leah and climbed awkwardly out of the tub. There was some fumbling for towels and clothes, but most of us made it to the basement family room unscathed, while Sam went upstairs with Leah, bidding us all a good night.

 

“You want somethin’ to wear?” Seth asked, and I realized I was shivering.

 

I was holding my clothes that had gotten wet from the water splashing over the side of the tub in one hand and still standing there in my underwear.

 

“Sure, if you have anything that’ll fit me.”

 

He wasn’t a little guy, really, but he had very narrow hips, and I did not. I checked out his ass as he walked down a hallway. He came back with a pair of cut off sweatpants and a t-shirt.

 

“Here ya go.”

 

He handed me the clothes and asked another of the guys if they had a dryer. I guessed he must not have lived there if he didn’t know where the clothes dryer was. I found a bathroom and changed into the stuff he gave me. At some point Alice and Jane disappeared. I don’t remember much about the rest of the night, but when I woke up I was naked in bed with Seth.

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, handing me a cup of water and some pills.

 

“Morning,” I croaked.

 

“How do you feel?”

 

“Like ass,” I answered, swallowing the pills and sipping the water.

 

My head was pounding and my stomach lurched when Seth laughed, shaking the bed. I rolled over, looking for my clothes and spotted them folded on a desk chair in the unfamiliar room where I’d passed out the night before. Someone had courteously dried them for me, taking care to fold them neatly. The image of my clothes blurred with the thought of Seth, a stranger, making efforts for me.

 

“I’m headed back today.” Seth’s voice interrupted my zombie state. “I shouldn’t have taken the extra day, but Coach said it was a good opportunity. I don’t want to miss prom, though. I heard it’s a big rite of passage or something.”

 

_Wait – hold the fucking phone. Prom?_

 

I was totally confused, but my brain couldn’t form words to ask Seth for clarification. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, barf would come spilling out, which would’ve sucked considering he’d been so nice to me.

 

He kept talking about Prom and graduation and being recruited by SUNY. Even in my alcohol-soaked state, I put the pieces together to understand that I had just fucked a high school kid. Here I thought he was a freshman in college, which was bad enough, but, no, he was an 18-year-old _senior in high school_.

 

I slid out from under the covers and crawled to the chair with my clothes. I sat on the floor and pulled my Henley over my head then slowly stood to pull my shorts on. I saw my underwear on the floor at the foot of the bed and snatched them and my bra just as my head started to whir and hum.

 

“Can I get your number?” Seth asked, looking hopeful. “I had fun last night.”

 

“I bet you did,” I mumbled. “Look, Seth, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other again.”

 

The boy looked crest fallen.

 

“I just… got out of a long and difficult relationship. It’s probably best that you find someone with a little less baggage.”

 

I narrowly escaped his repeated requests for my phone number or email before bumping into Carlisle’s unsettlingly hot younger brother. I felt raw, exposed, and ready to pop. I was hungover and humiliated by the indiscretion with the high school boy, and I really didn’t need a witness.

 

I briefly considered killing Carlisle’s little brother. Alice would totally help me hide the body.

 

“Mornin’,” he said, walking around the really nice black Cayenne he’d just exited. He was carrying something in his right hand, and there were boxes scattered around the car and in front of the garage. I remembered Esme saying he’d just moved from Chicago. I wondered if he was going to SUNY also. At least he looked older than 18.

 

“You’re Rose.”

 

He switched whatever the fuck was in his right hand to his left, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and reached out for a handshake. I was so hungover, and I had to look like a pile of shit. At least I’d been in the hot tub the night before, because I can’t imagine how I’d have smelled if I hadn’t.

 

Edward, on the other hand, looked fresh and vibrant; he had a light glow and flush on his cheeks. He was rocking the fuck out of a light sheen of perspiration that made me want to lick his skin to see how he’d taste. I hated feeling like this--buzzed and horny and reckless.

 

“I’m Edward,” he said, patiently waiting for me to shake his hand or speak instead of stand there staring like an idiot.

 

“Hey,” I said and shook his hand.

 

My voice was rough from too much wine and not enough sleep.  I was having that puking scare again, and was afraid if I said too much I’d say something stupid like, please fuck me, so I kept my words to a minimum and quickly pulled my hand from his grip. Then I gestured toward my apartment above his brother’s house. As if indicating where I lived would somehow explain my state of dress and disarray or why I was barely speaking.

 

“I gotta… I’ve got guests. Waiting.”

 

Clearly, I was still drunk, and it was obvious that Edward could tell. He tilted his aviators down and eyed me with the smirkiest smirk I’d ever seen in my life. Then he grimaced and chuckled.

 

“Yeah, I’ve had those mornings.”

 

He slid his shades back into place and tossed the item in his left hand back and forth between his hands.

 

My brain processed that it was a portable hard drive for a computer. It was wrapped in a purple neoprene case. For some reason this not-yet-conceptualized piece of information made my stomach roil. I closed my eyes and tried not to think too much about the fact that Edward was not only deadly hot, but smart or skilled enough to need the external hard drive he casually tossed between his disturbingly large and capable looking hands.

 

“You should get yourself a Bloody Mary and an omelet.” He wouldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to beat his ass and fuck the Hell out of him. “Best thing for a hangover, hands down--hair of the dog, grease, and a nap.”

 

My brain was sloshing as I thanked him for his advice and his jawline (the second part I didn’t say out loud), then tried not to trip over my own feet as I trudged up to my apartment. I tiptoed inside, quiet as a mouse, so as not to disturb my guests.

 

Alice and Jane were sprawled across the living room floor on my air mattress. I crept past them into my bedroom where I found some clean clothes and headed to take a shower. I already wished I could start the day over without the child I molested or that smug asshole brother of Carlisle’s. He’d tried to be all “oh, I’ve totally been there with the hang over”, but I knew, deep down, he was mocking me.

 

In the bathroom I stripped and climbed into the shower. Without a second thought, I pulled the shower head from its perch, braced my hand against the wall, and got myself off thinking about Edward shirtless and tatted and grinning and _fuck_!

 

He was beyond fuckable, probably well into marriable territory, no denying it, but my relationship with Edward Cullen would end with the showerhead. I was delusional to consider anything more. I was determined to stick to my new plan to stop making shit up in my head, and Edward would be my new challenge: _do not pretend that someone like Edward would want to be with you_.

 

I finished my shower and dried off, then wrapped my hair in a towel. I let myself think about Edward, because it couldn’t hurt just to _think_ about him. He’d just smiled happily at my predicament as he packed his shit in and out of boxes like a good little Boy Scout.  I assumed he was busy trying to get organized since he’d just moved back, but he didn’t even look once at my braless tits. I decided to believe he was gay, because that possibility made me feel less pathetic.

 

I walked out into the living area where Jane was awake in a tangle of Alice and blankets. Jane was propped on one elbow, one hand hovering over the side of Alice’s cheek. She appeared to be tracing small patterns in the air, a serene, loving smile lighting her darkly angelic face.

 

“Coffee?” I asked quietly.

 

Jane lazily took note of my presence, her eyes remaining unfocused as her hand slowly drooped to the pillow next to Alice’s head. When Alice hummed and stretched, rolling into Jane’s side, I realized she was awake too. Then, true to Alice fashion, she put the morning’s developments into perspective with a simple suggestion.

 

“Mmm, and donuts,” Alice mumbled into the pillow. “Donuts make everything better.”

 

Jane giggled, and I smiled despite my brain melting hang over and humiliating walk of shame. They were in love and it permeated the air. I filed away the feeling that came from just being in the same room with them for me to consider another time. I needed to think about how they appeared and how I had always felt when I was in relationships: serenity versus anxiety.

 

As I turned my back on the happy couple to percolate some medium roast, I recognized I didn’t really know what it was that I wanted or needed (or _deserved_ ) but I hoped whatever I found for myself would make me feel the way those two girls looked at that very moment.

 

Alice and I had been through a lot, together and as individuals, but she maintained the ability to look at life through an extraordinary lens. I had forgotten how refreshing her outlook often made me feel during those times when I was less than good.

 

Alice’s presence helped me realize that I could choose to be bitter about the fact that Royce had betrayed me then died--similar to how she’d left me and was now so happy with someone else--or I could try to figure out what really bugged me about being left.

 

Was it being dumped, or cheated on that bothered me? Or was it that I had loved her, and Riley, and Emmett, and Royce so much I couldn’t bear to lose them under any circumstance? What did I love about them, anyway? Did I really love them at all?

 

The age-old question: what is love, and have I ever been in it? I didn’t have a clue, but I was going to find out the answers to a lot of questions, and I needed to start immediatley.


	4. Not Making Things Up

Alice and Jane stayed a second night, and there was a lot less drinking and a little more talking. I decided that Jane wasn’t a total psychopath and that I could tolerate her weirdness. We both loved Alice and wanted to remain in her life, so that was the simple solution.

Alice and I talked about how she and I ended things between us, and we talked about Royce. After all was said and done, I told her that I was happy she was my friend.

“You have so much love to give, Rose.”

Alice’s wide, sincere eyes pulled me in and made me believe what she was saying. While I interpreted my typical actions as a manifestation of my complete inability to be alone, Alice saw me as someone who had  love to give. I thought maybe I should sit with that concept for a while instead of assuming that all I was capable of was using sex as a diversion from reality. I could talk about that with my therapist.

“I don’t fault you for going to Emmett when I left to take care of my grandmother,” Alice said, pardoning me for my indiscretion. “I couldn’t be there to run with you.”

She shrugged and smiled.

I remembered saying to Alice once that I didn’t need someone to love me and take care of me; I just wanted someone to run with, keep pace with me. If I wanted to go faster, I wanted someone who wouldn’t hold me back, but if I needed to slow down, that person would stay with me. This conversation took place a few days before Alice and I started sleeping together and about one hour after we had split three hits of acid between the two of us. Everyone thinks they’re so profound when they’re tripping, but I guess I had made an impression.

“Yeah, Emmett was a good trainer,” I said with a grin, and Alice nodded.

Emmett was a great trainer. I needed to reach out to him next to let him know I cared about him, too. I hoped he would receive me as well as Alice had. 

Alice and I baked two-dozen cookies and ate almost all of them by the time we were done hashing everything out. Jane was content sitting at the kitchen island playing games on her phone. She was decidedly odd, but absolutely the right person to run with Alice.

I kissed them both goodbye when they left the next day, and Alice and I promised to stay in touch. I was determined to keep that promise.

**~~~**

When I got ready to go to dinner at the Cullens on Thursday, I was feeling better about things than I had in weeks. I put on my favorite halter-top and did something fun and flirty with my hair. I loved the crimson color of the top and the feel of the silk against my skin. I was looking forward to getting to know Esme and Carlisle a little better, too, and when I entered through the kitchen door, I smelled heaven.

“Rose, hi!” Esme greeted, looking adorable in her little blue apron. “Wow, you look gorgeous. I love your top.”

I was flattered that she noticed my favorite top, and then I remembered that it was also Royce’s favorite. He said it made my tits look fuckable beyond comprehension. It took three hand-washings to get it clean after he lived out that fantasy, but if I let Royce’s dick moves (pun intended) taint everything in my life, I’d need a lobotomy just to get me through the day.

I closed the door behind me and Esme wiped her hands on a towel then untied her apron. She crossed the room with a warm smile and open arms.

“Hey,” I said.

My face got hot, and I didn’t know why I was embarrassed, or nervous, or whatever was causing me to blush. It wasn’t like Esme knew how dirty this shirt had been, but I was overwhelmed with emotion. Tears started to well in my eyes but I tamped it all down as I walked into her hug.

I was never very good at hugging or expressing my feelings unless I was fucking somebody, and even then all emotions expressed were through sex.

Being a Psych major gives me such tremendous insight!

When I remembered the bottle of wine in my hand, it sort of saved me from a mini-emo meltdown, and I was able to quickly pull out of Esme’s embrace with an excuse to give her the gift. “I brought some wine.” I shoved the bottle toward her to separate us.

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful.” Esme accepted the bottle from me with a smile.

“It’s crappy,” I said with a shrug.

Esme looked taken aback, and I realized that I'd just told her I brought something I thought was crappy to her house as a gift. I backpedalled.

“I mean, I don’t really know anything about wine, so...” I squirmed and grasped for some kind of excuse for my comment and behavior. “But, maybe I got lucky?”

I shrugged again, feeling my newly found confidence from earlier slowly draining away. I certainly liked drinking wine, but Royce was the one who really _knew_ about wine. I just went along with his choices at restaurants, not that he would have ever let me choose anyway. 

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Esme said with a renewed grin. “I’ll just put it in the fridge to chill before we open it.”

I’d been inside the Cullens’ kitchen on a few occasions, but just to drop off my rent check, and I was always in a hurry. Coming over for dinner gave me a whole new way to look at things. Standing there as Esme found a place for my wine, I saw that her kitchen was a warm and inviting space; open and clean, but obviously well-used by people who knew how to use kitchens.

“Hey, Es?” A voice I faintly recognized floated in from outside the kitchen. The sound of it made my tummy flip and my skin prick. “Can I help you with something? Carlisle’s boring the fuck outta me with shop talk.”

Edward entered the kitchen looking like he’d recently shaved, and his hair was damp and combed off to the side. He was sporting a surprisingly clean-cut appearance that looked really good on him. He looked comfortable and relaxed, quietly graceful. I imagined he was one of those guys who resented how naturally pretty he was, so he got a shit ton of the tattoos and put off shaving just to prove he wasn’t _too pretty_. I also imagined that if I took a bite out of him, he’d taste like spiced cake or warm bread pudding.

Fantasizing couldn’t hurt, right?

“Sure,” Esme agreed. “But first you have to meet Rosalie.” 

Edward turned his attention toward me, and I braced myself for the possible onslaught. After our first oh-so-charming meeting, he could either ridicule me or ignore the situation entirely. I hoped he would display the same rules of tact as his sister-in-law and brother.

“I’ve told you about Rose, haven’t I?" Esme asked. "She lives upstairs?”

Edward knew more about me than the simple fact that I lived upstairs. He happened to be the sole witness to the Hot Tub and the High School Boy incident. 

“Ah, yes,” Edward replied, grinning. “We’ve met, actually. Feeling better?”

He sipped his beer but never took his twinkling, teasing gaze off of me. If I didn’t associate him with Carlisle and Esme, two of the nicest people in the world, I would automatically believe he was mocking me. But the look in his eyes was playful, not malicious.

“I’m great.” I gave him a cautious smile. “Thanks for asking.”

“Oh, when did you meet?” Esme asked, busying herself with dinner, pulling a tray of bread out of the oven then sliding a pan of something else to bake back in.

My eyes met my toes and I waited to hear how Edward would describe our adorable meet and greet. 

“A few days ago,” he answered, turning and squatting to dig through the beverage fridge for another bottle of whatever he was drinking. “I was out front loading some of my boxes from your garage to take over to my place when I ran into Rose.”

I watched him gracefully twist and stretch, the muscles in his back rippling through the thin t-shirt he wore. Then he turned to face Esme.

“Do you have any more of that Porter, Es?”

I breathed a sigh of relief at Edward’s change of subject. I was really hoping that I could start with a clean slate with Esme, and I didn’t need her to know that I was the neighborhood whore.

“There should be,” she answered, leaning back to peek over Edward’s shoulder into the fridge, but keeping her arms over the sink where she’d moved to wash her hands. “There. In the back. And grab one for me while you’re in there, please?”

“K,” he answered.

I watched him pushing and pulling bottles around inside the small fridge. He seemed to be rearranging the order of things as he placed two bottles of beer on the counter above the open door. His arms were beautiful, and colorful, and they looked strong.

“Rose?” Edward swiveled his head and looked up at me. I’d been hypnotized by his movements, knowing that underneath that t-shirt was a glorious network of ink over sinewy muscle that I had thought a lot about every time I showered since Sunday.

I was dazzling in my response. “Huh?” 

“Beer?” he asked, wiggling a third bottle of beer in his hand, brow arched and smirky smirk returning. “Or would you prefer tequila shots?”

My daze wore off the second I registered that he was teasing me. He wasn’t _quite_ letting my escapade from the other morning go, but still... I debated on taking him up on the tequila shots just to be a cunt, but thought better of it, not wanting to turn Esme’s quiet dinner party into a sloppy brawl.

I smiled sweetly. “I’m taking it easy tonight. Just a beer, thanks.”

He grinned and rose to standing, grabbed the bottle opener from the counter and popped the top off the beer in his hand before handing it to me. Then he opened the other two and slid one across the counter to Esme. 

“Okay, the lasagna will take about 45 minutes to cook,” Esme said. “Why don’t we go sit down with Carlisle? I promise to come up with something besides the ER to talk about.”

The few times I'd talked to Carlisle, I was fascinated with what he did. Not only was he going to be a doctor, but he was also passionate about his work. His residency was just a brief leg on his trip to success. We left the kitchen and ventured into the parts of the house I’d never seen.

“Hey, Rose, how are you?” Carlisle greeted me as we entered the sitting room.

“I’m good,” I answered with a genuine smile. “How’s work?”

I internally cringed, realizing that I’d led Carlisle back into the very subject Edward did not want to hear about. Then I felt a slightly victorious, like I’d earned points for getting back at him in the little teasing game he’d started.

I wondered if Edward had been flirting with me, or if he was actually mocking me. I decided to just play it by ear, not make shit up in my head, and have a good time. So I just calmly waited for Carlisle’s answer.

“Oh, ya know…” Carlisle waved the question off, indicating he didn’t really want to talk about work. He was flipping through a magazine of some kind and tossed it to the table before picking up a glass of something amber colored on ice. I didn’t know him well enough to know what he liked to drink, but my money was on expensive Scotch.

“It is what it is, but I don’t want to bore you all. Especially Edward. If we aren’t talking about music or video games, Edward isn’t interested.”

I snorted, imaging Edward as a gangly 14-year-old boy playing Xbox. “Play a lot of video games, do ya?” I asked as I settled into the couch next to Esme.

Edward was glaring at Carlisle then turned his glare to me. “I don’t just play them; I design them.”

Terse and abrasive were excellent words to describe the vibe coming off of Edward at that moment. I actually thought it was a little bit funny, because up until this point I had seen him do nothing but joke around and laugh. I couldn’t imagine him being genuinely pissed about anything. 

I didn’t know why he was so defensive. He was a frickin’ computer genius – one of those guys who looks at you like you’re a total idiot because you don’t know the difference between a megabyte and a gigabyte. Why would he need to be defensive?

Whatever _._

“Cool,” I nodded and sipped my beer. “I’ve never really met a computer nerd.”

I tried not to look as if I were too affected by his attitude or his aptitude. I was just going to sit there on that couch and drink my beer, go have some dinner, and try to appear like a normal, mature adult.

“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t really strike me as the type to hang out in a computer lab.”

Ouch _._

His eyes burned into me as he deftly spun his beer bottle where it sat on the side table. Unsurprisingly, Edward showed his true colors--just like every other man in the world, he thought I was a dumb blonde. I should’ve known.

I considered all the comebacks I had to use, my arsenal of standards, but I didn’t want to make things awkward for Carlisle and Esme.

“Edward, did you get your self-defense classes set up?” Esme cut in.

I had no idea what she was taking about, and Edward didn’t seem to care; he held my gaze a beat longer than necessary before finally turning to Esme in answer.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m teaching Monday and Wednesday nights from seven to eight-thirty.”

“Edward’s a black belt in Tae Kwon Do,” Esme informed me. “He teaches self-defense classes.”

Carlisle looked as bored with this conversation as Edward had claimed to be with the ER talk. I guessed there was a bit of sibling rivalry there. I couldn’t blame them, really. They were both smart and hot. Not to mention that Carlisle was going to be rich and Edward was a badass.

“I’m signing up, Rose.” Esme kept on about Edward’s stupid fucking classes. The longer I sat there, the more annoyed I was with his teasing, then basically calling me a bimbo.

“You should join me,” she said. “It’ll be like a book club only with fewer Kleenex.”

Esme laughed at her own joke, and Carlisle chuckled as he swirled his glass of whatever.

“Speaking of books,” Esme addressed all three of us. “Have you read _Room_? It’s absolutely riveting. Before you know it, you’re completely part of this child’s world.”

I had read _Room_. It was one of the few books I’d read within the last few years that didn’t involve a lot of sex or coursework psychobabble.

“I loved that book,” I answered with an enthusiastic nod. “It was heartbreaking; especially coming from the boy’s point of view.”

Soon we were talking excitedly about books and movies – safe topics. Esme really knew how to divert and relieve tension. As Esme and I talked, I noticed Edward watching us from the corner of my eye, while he and Carlisle talked about guitars. He seemed equally interested in what I was saying.

“Edward, you should’ve left one of your guitars here,” Carlisle said as we moved into the other room to get the table ready for dinner. “We could’ve entertained the ladies with our musical prowess.”

Esme giggled when Carlisle emphasized the word prowess with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I was at once sickened by their cuteness and further aggravated by the fact that I could add musician to Edward’s list of awesomeness. While I was painfully aware that I didn’t know nearly as much about Royce as I should have, I was positive he was nowhere near as talented and interesting as this guy.

“I’ve been trying out some of The Black Keys and Dan Auberbach’s stuff,” Edward said. “Nice departure from the band.”

“Oh, I like The Band,” I said.

Edward and Carlisle each gave me a look of surprise. I felt hot, again – put on the spot. It bothered me more that these two guys were surprised that I had layers than it had bothered me that Edward thought I was a dumb blonde. Usually I didn’t much care when guys saw me as nothing more than a sex object, but for some reason I wanted more from my landlord and his brother.

“What?” I snapped. “You don’t know who The Band is? They’re only one of the most influential rock bands ever.”

 “Yes,” Carlisle answered, grinning and nodding. “But we were talking about the band we used to have together.”

“Oh, my God, they _wish_ they were The Band,” Esme joked. “But, yes, they both play guitar, and Edward used to sing.”

“Lady, I _still_ sing,” Edward said.

He shifted his gaze to me and cracked a half-smile. It was attractive, I couldn’t deny that, but I was still spun over his reaction to my video game question and his subsequent insult. Maybe the little grin was his attempt at making up for his assumptions about me? I didn’t know, but regardless I felt like he was patronizing me a little.

“Yeah, in the shower,” Carlisle added with a snort.

Esme laughed, and I felt myself relax despite my feelings for her brother in-law. Through all the ups and downs of the evening, I was having a really nice time. Esme was so great, and Carlisle was funny. It didn’t matter what I thought of Edward.

After dinner, we all pitched in to clean up the kitchen. I washed my hands as Carlisle and Esme found room in their big refrigerator for the leftovers.

“So, who was that big ass dog I saw last week?” I asked.

“Masen,” Edward answered, eyeing me curiously. “He’s a Bull Mastiff.”

“He’s beautiful,” I said, drying my hands. “Did you get him from a breeder around here?”

Edward shook his head, and the look on his face – a look that said proud, protective, and loving papa – made my stomach do another little flip.

“I got him from a Bull Mastiff rescue when I was living in Chicago.”

He shoved his fists into his pockets making his arms flex and bringing attention back to his ink. I loved the way he looked right then. I wanted to hang on to his every word, and I wanted to watch him. He entranced me, but I reminded myself that he didn’t want me, and even if he did, it would end badly with lies and broken hearts. 

“His mother was rescued from a breeder-slash-coke dealer’s house after a bust,” Edward told me his dog’s story. “She was pregnant and Masen was one of nine pups.”

Disdain dripped from his voice when he said coke dealer. So, I guessed he wasn’t into drugs. Or maybe he just didn’t approve of dealers. Or maybe he was just a judge-y, self-righteous prick. 

“Well, you saved him then,” I said.

Edward shrugged. “I like to think we saved each other,” he answered quietly.

Esme cleared her throat and reached out to rub a hand over one of Edward’s arms in comfort – something I’d been wanting to do since the moment I first saw him, to trace the designs and follow where they lead.

“You’re a good daddy, Edward.” Esme smiled at him and he rolled his eyes playfully, but I think I saw a light blush on his cheeks. He was going to fucking kill me with the blushing.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom,” I said. “Is it just around the corner here?”

“Yeah,” Carlisle answered, pointing absently as he placed the last container in the fridge. “You can’t miss it.”

The little bathroom was easy to find. Once I was washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed how fat my arms were getting. I reminded myself that I was going to need to work extra hard if I wanted to keep wearing halter-tops like this one. When I came back out to join Esme and the guys on the side porch I heard Edward’s voice from the deck. It didn’t take long for me to understand he was talking about me.

“I appreciate you trying to get me some, Carlisle – you’re always lookin’ out for me – but trust me, the last thing I need is another party girl. I’m past that shit.”

In just a few sentences, Edward said everything I already knew about our total lack of possibility, but it still hurt to hear it out loud after such a nice night. I debated whether I should try to correct his misinterpretation of me, or if I should just accept his judgment. I decided to just accept it, since he wasn’t going to matter much to my future anyway.

“I don’t see the correlation between Rosalie and Siobhan _at all_ , Edward-“

I walked out onto the deck interrupting Carlisle’s argument in favor of Edward giving me a pity fuck. Obviously, Edward was way above a girl like me.

“Well, I’m gonna head out,” I said. “Thanks so much for dinner, guys.”

Esme looked back and forth between Edward and I. It was obvious that I'd overheard what they were saying.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Esme asked.

“Yeah, ya know, I’ve got class tomorrow.” I started looking around like I was going to find the keys or purse that I hadn’t brought downstairs with me. I was busying myself, trying to look unaffected by the uncomfortable situation. “And it’s Riley’s birthday,” I added with a shrug. “So I’m sure we’ll be out all night tomorrow.”

I shot Edward a pointed look. He was watching me, but looked away a second after we made eye contact. I wouldn’t call his expression apologetic. I might say he looked like he pitied me.

Good _._  

“Well, if you’re sure…” Esme said, as she stood up from her deck chair and approached me. “Just let me walk you up. I have some leftovers for you, too.”

“Uch, it was delicious,” I said as she and I walked back into the kitchen. “But I really need to watch what I’m eating.”

Esme grabbed one of the small containers of lasagna she’d put together earlier. We left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my place. At the top of the landing, Esme pulled her phone from her pocket, telling me she had talked to her friend, the therapist, and she wanted to give me her number.

“Hey, Edward didn’t mean anything by what he said, Rose,” she said as I copied the number from her phone into mine. “He’s just been through a lot. Not that you haven’t… I just hope you didn’t get your feelings hurt.” 

“Of course not.” I scoffed. “I didn’t even hear what you were talking about. Besides, he’s not my type.”

Esme seemed unconvinced by anything I said, but smiled anyway and thanked me for coming down to dinner. We agreed to do it again soon before she disappeared into her house, leaving me with my leftovers in hand.


	5. Three Lists and One Goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER Disclaimer: All things Twi belong to SM, and all things Whedon belong to Him; you may recognize several of the characters from the shelter if you’ve ever watched a Whedon TV show.

A few days passed and I tried not to think about Edward. After I allowed myself to, I admitted that he was an interesting phenomenon. On the one hand, I thought he was the same as every other guy--thinking I was an idiot, but wanting to grope my tits anyway. Yet, when I was honest with myself, I accepted that Edward didn’t have a lot of interest in groping anything I had to offer.

I considered what Esme had said to me, that he’d been through a lot, and I realized that maybe he wasn’t a total dick for saying the things he’d said. It’s not like I’d never said something shitty or mean to someone in defense of my behavior or myself, or that I had tried to correct Edward when he had made obnoxious references to my partying and the low probability that I knew how to locate a computer lab. So, overall, he seemed polite. Friendly, even. I filed his behavior away in my mind as his issues, not mine.

Riley, Emmett, and Alice were usually the ones on the receiving end of my own atrociously hypocritical behavior, though. I was determined to not let things get too messy with Edward and to continue mending fences with my friends. Emmett was next, since I was feeling so very inspired by my time with Alice.

We used to all work together at Aro’s. Emmett was Alice and my favorite bartender. We loved his nicknames and sweet compliments. Sometimes I fantasized that his dimpled grins were just for me.

When Alice moved back home to take care of her grandmother, I was lonely. I wondered when she would come back and what we'd eventually do about us. I was lost without her. Emmett tried to cheer me up, inviting me over for movie night, making pancakes for dinner. 

Her phone calls, texts, and emails slowly dwindled, and Emmett and I spent more and more time together, drinking beer and fooling around in the carport outside his house so his roommates wouldn’t hear us. I was sure my mother would say that he was “a little rough around the edges”, but Emmett was a good friend. And he was there for me when I needed someone to fill the void.

I had wondered if I was straight or gay or bisexual or what the fuck. I was so confused, because I thought Alice was the one for me after Riley. I never really talked to anyone about my confusion, but I just decided one day that it didn’t matter. In hindsight, I fully accept that it didn’t matter at all. Alice was right; I had a lot of love to give, and if someone, anyone, was worthy of that, I was going to give it to him or her, no matter what sex he or she was.

Emmett and I hung out for about nine months. He got me through my Alice withdrawal, and by the time Alice came back from taking care of her grandmother, Royce was coming into the restaurant and Emmett had moved on to Faith.

Faith was this super edgy and vibrant bartender from another restaurant down the road. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Then she dumped Emmett after about six weeks, saying it was nothing personal, it was just time to move on. She was so together and tough. Nothing was going to hurt that girl.

As I sat in the office of the youth shelter, filling out paperwork, I wished I had some of Faith’s thick skin. I'd set up an appointment to talk to the staff at the shelter about my required community service. Forty-five minutes later I was poring over case files, drowning in the misery and horror some of the residents of the shelter had endured.

“Their terms are constantly changing,” Wesley explained.

He sounded like a proper British gentleman, but he looked overworked and harried as he flipped through files and tossed folders full of depressing background information, documentation of medications and treatment, and paperwork into a basket for me to read before I could meet any of the kids.

“Some of them are here for five days, some for five months, so don’t get attached and don’t let them fool you. We’re here to give them structure and boundaries, not to kiss their boo-boos.”

I honestly wasn’t sure how I would get through this gig without losing my shit, because when I opened the file for Victoria Hadley, I almost broke down. Since she was 12 years old, Victoria’s stepfather had raped her repeatedly. At 16, she was in treatment for cocaine and alcohol abuse, had been arrested for trespassing and vandalism, and was now under constant supervision because she had a habit of cutting herself with anything she could somehow make sharp.

When Wesley returned to the office he must’ve noticed the file I was reading, and evidently he thought I could use some extra commentary on her situation. I didn’t need more of an eye-opener, though. I could complain about my own mother until the cows came home, but nothing compared to the nightmares I read about in those pages.

“Vicki sleeps in the Eye-ball Room,” he stated.

“Eye-ball Room?”

“That’s the only room with a camera and the only room with one bed,” Wesley explained, looking like he hadn’t slept in weeks and needed a bath. “She has to be supervised at all times and she can’t be left in a room alone with any one person.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, feeling my skin begin to prickle and my hair stand on end.

“Remember what I said about not letting them fool you?” Wesley asked.

I nodded.

“Vicki’s made manipulation an art form.” His wry expression did nothing to set my mind at ease. “She _will_ test your will.”

I set a schedule with Wesley to work at the shelter every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, getting the kids checked in after school, making dinner, helping with homework, and reviewing their daily worksheets to make sure they were each staying within their point system.

Each day the kids were given a worksheet with a daily task list and a small set of questions. For each item on the task list that was checked off with verification by one of the shelter managers, a driver, or a school administrator, the child would receive points. Standing in line in the middle of the day and taking meds without argument could potentially earn a kid ten points, provided he or she didn’t have any “unauthorized paraphernalia” in his or her school bag.

I didn’t tell Wesley I was upset by the case files I’d read. Shit, I didn’t even want to think much about it myself, but I was scared. Of what, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t feel like I was in danger, not physically, but I knew the experience would have an impact on my life. I just didn’t know what or how huge that impact would be.

Then, on my first Tuesday at the shelter, I met Victoria.

“Oh, goody,” Victoria said before swallowing the handful of meds Wesley had given her. “Shitty drugs to substitute for the good drugs; excellent plan, Wes.”

They stood in the doorway of the shelter office at the front of a long line of kids returning from school. This was the routine: after school pick up, check bags at the office, afternoon meds (if needed), and homework until dinner.

I squeezed past Wesley and the teenage drama queen, so I could get inside the office to stow my bag and catch up on the logbook from the weekend. I was running a few minutes late, too, and I felt like I was disturbing an important part of the daily routine. I saw Charles Gunn, the other shelter manager, who I’d barely had any interaction with yet, sorting through a backpack. He removed a pack of gum and dropped it in the garbage can then pulled out a comic book and a half empty bottle of Pepsi.

“See? Pepsi,” Victoria called from the doorway. “Aren’t you proud of me for avoiding the Coke, Gunn?”

Gunn snorted derisively, but I noticed a hint of amusement as he tossed the bottle into a recycling bin next to his desk.

Good stood and answered.“Yeah, that’s real good, Vic. Now get pages 37 through 80 read before supper and I’ll be prouder yet.”

He handed her what appeared to be a science book of some kind--I had no idea what science classes a 16-year-old runaway took these days--a notebook, and a pen. While I secured my bag in my locker and began searching for the weekend’s files, Wesley unlocked the medicine cabinet, placed Victoria’s meds inside, and pulled a single bottle from the cabinet before relocking it behind him. 

“Who’s the new girl?”

I heard Victoria ask the question and turned to face her and Gunn. Still pretty fucking freaked, but putting on my well-worn game face, I leveled her with my gaze.

“Her name is Rosalie,” Wesley answered dismissively. Walking back to the door, he motioned the next resident forward. “You'll all get to meet her at dinner. Right now, you will do as Gunn asked by sitting quietly in that chair over there.”

Wesley pointed to an uncomfortable looking chair that sat almost exactly in the middle of the room. Victoria shrugged and walked to the chair. Dropping her notebook to the floor, she straddled the chair backwards and started flipping through the pages of her textbook. 

“Hey,” I said in greeting, stuffing my hands in the back pockets of my ratty jeans. “Do you want me to get started on the files right away, or do you need help with anything else right now?”

“Hello, Rosalie,” Wesley greeted with an easy, polite smile then handed a small boy with wide blue eyes one pill, which the boy swallowed without argument.

Wesley and Gunn were a stark contrast--Wesley being the British scholarly-type, and Gunn looking like he just stepped out of a rap video. They were both very kind (and kind of hot), though, so this whole experience was slightly more palatable.

“We got this part, Rose,” Gunn answered. “Just get started on the files, and when we’re done, I’ll catch you up on some stuff.”

“'Kay,” I answered and nodded.

I turned on my heel and located a rolling chair I could pull with me toward the filing cabinet. I unlocked and opened the drawer, where I knew the most recently updated logs would be, and started reviewing them.

One of the younger boys, Andrew, got into an argument with his roommate on Saturday and tried to run away, but Gunn caught him right outside the back door. Tara, the oldest girl in the house, had to be taken to the ER on Sunday night, because she’d had a seizure. River, the youngest girl in the house, still wasn’t talking to anyone, and she’d been there for three weeks. I sat and read this all in black and white, knowing there was more to these stories--heartbreak, pain, terror--but nothing in the files would tell me about feelings and emotions. The files and logbook were just filled with the facts.

“Guts ya, doesn’t it?” Gunn had dragged a chair over to where I sat looking over the logbook and was settling in next to me when I finally made eye contact.

“Yeah,” I answered and shook my head. “Wesley said some of these kids are here for five months at a time?”

I wondered about the benefits to someone like River, who was so obviously traumatized by something in her past, being somewhere as cold and rigid as this shelter. We were strictly forbidden from touching the kids or comforting them in any way, which I thought was cruel to some of them.

“That’s right,” Gunn answered. “And it’s a good thing, too, ‘coz a alotta these kids been bounced around from foster home to foster home where they sorta just blend into the background, ya know?”

I nodded. I really _didn’t_ know, but I wanted him to keep talking until I _did_.

“And that ain’t a bad thing on the surface if the kid knows where they stand, but these kids?” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder toward the sitting room where the kids sat reading and writing, and discussing schoolwork. “Most of these kids don’t even know which way is up, let alone when to say no or when not to ask for what they haven’t earned, know what I’m sayin’?” 

He was reinforcing that it was our job to give these kids structure and routine to help them feel safe. I did understand that, but there was such a large part of me that just wanted to hug each and every one of them and tell them everything was going to be all right.

“Boundaries,” I said, looking down at the logbook before flipping it back to the current date and replacing it to its rightful spot.

“Right,” Gunn answered with a chuckle. “These kids ain’t got ‘em.”

I knew the backgrounds of the residents as the police and welfare system had documented them. As a volunteer, I wasn't privy to psychological records other than diagnoses and necessary medications and treatments, so the mystery to me was how the kids felt and what they thought.

“I just…” I paused, wondering how much I should say to him, knowing that he had an entirely different set of rules as a manager and an actual employee; I was just a volunteer. “I wonder about how they _feel_ , ya know?”

Gunn’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling and he leaned back from where he was previously hunched forward, elbows casually balanced on his knees. “We’re here to give these kids structure, somethin’ to count on. Teach them to make a _choice_ and help them to understand that it’s okay to fuck up as long as they make it right.”

In that moment I knew I wasn’t alone. Gunn wanted to make it better, too. I also knew that I would probably never get the answers I wanted, and I doubted that I or anyone else here would be able to help all of these kids. I saw that frustration written on Gunn’s face, but I also saw determination and might. He may not be able to save them all, but he was going to die trying.

“Fair enough,” I responded quietly, nodding my head in agreement. “I’ll do the best I can to help with that. I know it’s important.” 

“It’s _your_ choice how you let this job change your life, because that’s exactly what will happen--no way around that.”

Gunn confirmed my suspicions, but the realization didn’t scare me anymore. Watching Gunn and Wes run the shelter was awe-inspiring, and I was honored to be part of the team.

At home that night, wine in hand (fuck Royce, I could drink wine without his approval), I went to Facebook to see if Emmett was online. I couldn’t remember the last time I was on Facebook and he wasn’t. A lot of times he would try to ping me and I'd ignore him, closing the browser immediately to avoid talking to him.

I'd avoided Emmett for the same reasons I had avoided Alice: I didn’t want to face the fact that my vision of Royce wasn’t real, and they both knew the truth. They both also knew how to keep me honest, and they usually boosted my courage, which was something I really needed and had missed.

I looked down in the lower right corner and saw Emmett’s green light. I had a brief moment when I started to panic a little because… what if he ignored me like I had been ignoring him for the past two years?

I took a deep breath and chose the casual route in reaching out to him.

_yo_

_it’s rose_

_what up?_

Mere seconds passed and I felt like I might hurl. Then…

_SHE LIIIIIVES_

_What’s up, doll? I haven’t heard from you in forever!_

I felt my face split with a grin. Relief washed over me.

_a lot_

_but what about you??_

_how’s work?_

Emmett was managing a restaurant in Syracuse. It was a family restaurant, but I couldn’t remember which member of his family owned it. I’m sure he told me once, but I wasn’t listening.

_Work is work, but I like it, ya know?_

_You gettin’ married soon?_

_LOL_

Emmett was always right to the point, which was one of the things I loved and hated about him. I could never hide from him, just like I could never hide from Alice or Riley.

_nope_

_i, um…_

_well_

_royce was in an accident_

_he was killed in a car accident_

Simply typing the words was almost as painful as saying them. There was no doubt that I was still confused about how I felt about Royce and the truth I learned after his death, but painful as it was, the sting lessened with time as I learned other truths. Truths like, I had friends to support me, who I loved and respected and had always been able to count on.

_Damn._

_Wow._

_I’m sorry, Rose._

_I don’t even know what to say._

_Are you okay?_

_I mean…_

_Obviously you’ve gotta be upset, but…_

_Do you need anything?_

I smiled and my heart hurt, wanting to be near Emmett again. He'd held a certain standard for me. He'd chosen someone else and taken another path, but like Alice and Riley, he stuck around when he didn’t need to. He was my friend.

_thanks, em, but no_

_i just wanted to let you know that you’ve always been such a good friend to me_

_even when i didn’t let you know it, i appreciated everything you did for me_

_you were always there for me, and…_

_i just need you to know how much i appreciate you and that i’m sorry for everything_

I typed from my heart and told him all the things I always knew but never acknowledged.

_Aww, Rosie, you’re a good kid._

_No apologies._

_You were always good to me, too._

_Remember when Kate dumped me and you and Ali took me out drinking and then let me watch you make out?_

_That was awesome._

I laughed out loud at that. I did remember, because he would never let us forget it. After that night, whenever he was in a shitty mood, he’d ask us to make out to cheer him up.

_i remember_

_you were pretty bummed, we had to do something!_

_but i also remember being not so nice when you and faith broke up_

_and i’m sorry about that_

_that was really bad form on my behalf_

I was so hurt that he’d dumped me, so I lashed out. Like Edward had lashed out at me at dinner with Carlisle and Esme.

_Okay._

_Then let me apologize for not beating Royce’s ass when he was still alive and treating you like shit._

_God rest his soul…_

I laughed again. Emmett was so Catholic, always blessing everybody’s heart and resting everyone’s soul.

_apology accepted_

_and… bygones?_

_Bygones._

Quick and easy, as it always was with Emmett. I had a fleeting realization that those were two of the biggest reasons Emmett and I never worked out--he was so easy and I was so fucking complicated.

_But seriously, how are you holding up?_

_It can’t be easy for you right now. I want to make sure you’re okay._

I answered him honestly.

_i’m going to start seeing a therapist_

_but_

_i’m actually doing really well_

_and ali was here for a few days_

_she has a new girlfriend_

_who’s totally fucking weird_

_but kind of awesome at the same time_

_but i’m doing good_

_really good_

_Good :)_

We chatted a little longer to catch up on day-to-day kind of stuff then made plans to meet up in the city for lunch. I had suggested we meet at Aro’s, but Emmett shot that idea down with a crack about how creepy “the old bastard” was and how Aro would never be able to keep his hands to himself if we were both there.

_Okay, sister. I’ll see you next week, then._

_yes, sir!_

We disconnected and I finished my wine, relaxing and flipping through stations on TV. I was pleased to be making amends with my friends, thankful for the opportunity and that Alice and Emmett had let me back in, but then I thought of Riley. Riley had always been there for me and he was still in my life. Yet, I thought about all the times I ditched him for Royce and all the things I said to him in defense of Royce’s treatment of me.

I wanted to talk to Riley, too, but part of me knew he’d pretend there was nothing wrong and that I'd never done anything to hurt him or disrespect him. Riley would rip anyone to shreds who hurt me, but if I hurt him, he’d take it lying down.

Regardless of how he took it, I wanted him to know what he meant to me. I would do whatever I could, going forward, to make things right between us.

**~~~**

“Tell me more about the panic attacks.”

I wasn’t sure I liked Dr. Inara. For one thing, she was a _psychiatrist_. Since I was studying for my undergrad in Psychology, I was aware of the difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist; a psychiatrist is an actual MD who’s, like, über-trained in mental illnesses and able to prescribe medication if need be, while a psychologist is generally more interested in continued study with therapy being part of his or her career path.

I was _super excited_ to have my first therapeutic visit outside the classroom be with someone who was, as we spoke, diagnosing me and considering what pill I should be taking and when. I was becoming more and more sympathetic of the kids at the shelter by the second.

“How do you know they’re panic attacks?” I asked, squirming in my seat.

In addition to the credentials that made me feel like a certifiable lunatic, Dr. Inara diagnosed my sleeping problems as panic attacks, which pissed me off. I may have felt panic on occasion, but I never let it show. Everyone I knew always said that I appeared calm, cool as the other side of the pillow.

“I mean, just because I have trouble sleeping sometimes doesn’t mean I’m crazy.”

“Just because you have panic attacks doesn’t mean you’re crazy,” she replied with a smile. “And while we’re at it, let’s try to steer clear of the generalized usage of the word _crazy_ , shall we?”

Dr. Inara’s gaze never wavered as she arched one perfectly manicured brow, calling me on the carpet.

In addition to her qualifications and razor-sharp wit, she was beautiful--perfect white teeth, shiny, bouncy hair, flawless skin. In short, she was annoyingly intimidating.

“What do you wanna know?”

I gave up on fighting her. I didn’t have to accept her snap diagnosis, but if I, or my parents’ insurance, was going to pay for this office visit I may as well participate.

“I mean, it isn’t easy to give details when all I’m thinking at the time is _shit shit shit shit shit_ , ya know?”

“Shit shit shit shit shit?” she asked with a subtle tilt of her head and two raised brows.

Shit _._

“Be more specific,” she requested, her voice gentle but encouraging, as her eyes returned to her notes.

“Well…” I began with a shrug. “I wake up in a… panic, hence the _shit shit shit shit shit_.”

Like a big girl, I openly admitted that I felt panicked. True to the texts that I had studied for the past few years, this therapy gig required me to say things out loud. I hoped it would prove to be as helpful as I always heard it was.

“And then I try to pull myself together enough to get out of it. I’ve tried deep breathing, counting to a hundred, exercising.”

The realization and acknowledgment that I had regular panic attacks was slowly sinking in and it was unsettling. I felt like being quiet and getting a grasp on my new revelation, so I let my words drift off before Dr. Inara began speaking again.

“Is there a particular thought or theme that you can recall from when this happens?”

She returned her eyes to mine, listening, engaged, waiting patiently for my answer.

I breathed steadily and didn’t plan my words before responding. I stammered and stumbled over them--the truth, my truth, spilling into the room in sputters.

“My first thought is always that I’ve forgotten something or that I’m _going_ to forget something or fuck something up, disappoint-” I shook my head to indicate just how much I didn’t know who or what I was disappointing, but that I _wanted_ to know, then I continued talking. “Like, the other day, my mom called to tell me that my cousin’s pregnant…”

I told Dr. Inara about the aggravating fucking conversation I had with my mother about my cousin Kaitlyn’s second pregnancy. I talked about my mom’s unbelievable excitement over a 22-year-old’s second child in three years.

“I mean, fuck, she never even _considered_ college, and it’s like, yeah, Ma, I get it, I fucked up with Royce, and now Kaitlyn’s got it made because her husband is some kinda club owner or some shit. Like he’s not gonna trade her in for a younger, tighter model the day she turns thirty. _Please_.”

Dr. Inara chuckled quietly then asked, “Who’s Royce?”

I blinked.

Huh. I'd been in the same room with her for thirty minutes and hadn’t even broached the topic that brought me there.

“Oh,” I said with a grimace. “Royce is the guy I thought I was going to marry.”

Mere days before I had felt sick and frail over his death. And while I wasn’t ready to dance on anyone’s grave, I suddenly realized that I felt lighter than I had in years, right then, at that very moment.

“And?” Dr. Inara asked, looking intrigued.

“Well, he decided to marry someone else,” I answered and shrugged my shoulders. “But before he could do it, or even tell me he was going to, he was killed in a car accident.”

“Okay…” Dr. Inara held up her right hand with a pen wedged between her thumb and index finger. “Please start over at the part where he was the guy you were going to marry.”

In fifteen minutes I told Dr. Inara about how I met Royce, how we started dating, how we had a lot of sex, how I had sex with his roommate while he watched, how I realized after his death that I didn’t know him at all, and how I learned about his death. For fifteen minutes she listened. 

“Why did you put up with all of that?” Dr. Inara asked. 

I stared at her unsure of how to answer. Yet it was the same question half of my friends--and even my own subconscious, if I was being honest--had been batting around for months. I'd ask myself why I allowed him to treat me like a whore, but I would never fully admit that he did treat me poorly, let alone that I _allowed_ it. 

“I’m asking because your attitude, when you talk about your sex life with him and how little you knew of his personal life, is a tad sardonic.”

 “You could say that.”

“And I just did,” she answered with a smile. “My question is, did you always feel that way, or is this attitude in light of the knowledge that he was with someone else?”

I felt my face doing interesting things, like smirking and grimacing. My insides were spilling through my usual unflappable exterior. Such a crazy week, starting a job that was scaring the fuck out of me with its life-altering potential and now therapy with a woman who could see straight through my façade.

Scared and panicked were words at the tip of the iceberg that I was at once afraid and praying would thaw. I placed a lot of faith in that thought that my job at the shelter and these sessions with Dr. Inara would melt away my pent up anxiety. Although I knew the job and the doctor couldn’t be the sole ingredients to the solution. I knew I had to do it myself.

“I guess I thought it didn’t matter how he treated me, because I thought he loved me.” I was sad to answer her with this truth. “I thought he was going to marry me. I thought we were just meant to be so all the other pieces didn’t matter.”

It was monumentally fucked that I was, just two weeks prior, willing to sell my soul to the devil for the perfect pattern of china.

“And what made you think that you were meant to be?”

She continued to accept the fact that I so willingly allowed a man to treat me like a piece of trash, and drilled down on my delusion that he loved me and that we would ride off into the sunset together. The same delusion I had about Alice and Riley and even my high school boyfriend.

“It was my time,” I answered sadly, thinking of my life plan that I’d outlined wherein I was married with two children by the age of thirty. “I was almost done with school. He was on his way to a brilliant career… Not that any of that matters, because I’ve done this before…”

“Done what before?”

“Made it up in my head,” I answered. “That _he’s the one_. That I’m so special that no one could ever leave me or want someone else more than they want me.”

Dr. Inara leaned forward with a box of Kleenex extended in front of her. I wondered what she was doing until I noticed the vision of the box blurred as it drew closer to me. I was crying.

“What makes you think you aren’t special?”

Her face and tone were so gentle. I accepted a tissue from the box.

“No one seems to want to stick around.”

There was silence. I assumed Dr. Inara was expecting me to say more, but I didn’t know what else to say without having her specific questions to answer. She obliged.

“Do you envy Kaitlyn, Rose?” she asked and sat back into her chair.

I hadn’t expected that question. I thought it was clear that I thought Kaitlyn was pathetic for not going to college and for trusting her smarmy club owner baby daddy, but Dr. Inara sat looking at me expectantly. Apparently, it wasn’t clear to her, and now she was waiting for an answer.

“Kaitlyn, my barefoot and pregnant cousin?” I asked in surprise.

She nodded, chuckling. 

“I don’t envy her,” I answered, then continued to think aloud. “But, part of me feels like… that’s what was expected of _me, too_ , so I feel a little like… a disappointment.”

“Are you disappointed in yourself?” she asked, looking completely unsurprised by my answer.

“No.”

I wasn’t disappointed in myself. As a matter of fact, I realized just how lucky I was that Royce had taken Elaine instead of me that weekend. Because if he had chosen me, I’d be dead, or if we hadn’t gotten into a crash, I’d have slowly died inside from his humiliating words and treatment, which was sure to escalate if we had married.

“I’m not disappointed in myself,” I reaffirmed. “I’m… actually relieved. Overall, I mean. But, with regard to my mom and family? I’m embarrassed.” 

“Of what?”

“That I can’t keep a man,” I answered. “There’s a lot of emphasis placed on getting married and having babies in my family, if you couldn’t tell,” I joked.

Dr. Inara smiled and nodded.

For some reason, an image of Edward appeared in my mind. His face when he talked about his dog Masen and the way he and Carlisle were together--competitive but supportive. Family.

“I think you should take some time to think about what you, Rosalie Hale, place emphasis on,” she said. “Don’t think about what Mom or Dad think, or how Royce would react if he were here.”

She gave me a homework assignment. She asked me to go home and make lists of admirable personality traits, indications of success, and definitions of happiness. She suggested I then write down one thing I wanted to personally accomplish before I graduated from college. 

“So, three lists and one goal?”

“Yes, preferably. And don’t think about what are _right_ answers, okay? Just label your lists and write down the words that come into your mind. We’ll talk about them when you come back next week.”

**~~~**

On my second Tuesday at the shelter, after the kids were all checked in without more than the standard drama, Wesley asked me to sit down with Victoria during study time. Evidently she didn’t have any schoolwork, but she had an assignment from her therapist.

I greeted Victoria as I approached her where she sat at the big round table in the main sitting area. "Hey."

I grabbed a chair and spun it so I could sit with the chair back at my front and rest my arms on the top rail. Something in my subconscious told me Victoria might appreciate the space placed between us by the chair back. My assumption was confirmed when I saw her eyes relax as she took note of my distance.

“What are you working on?” I asked, not expecting her to even acknowledge that I’d asked a question, let alone answer it.

Victoria eyed me sideways with a dry smile and eye roll then looked down at the paper that sat in front of her on the table. She seemed to contemplate its stark content and whether or not to share before shrugging and sliding the paper across the old scarred wood.

I looked down to see if I could garner anything useful from the paper she'd begrudgingly shared with me. I thought the moment was one of those “opportunities” where I could exercise some of my listening skills or deductive reasoning that I'd learned in class.

But when I looked down, I was momentarily stunned and slightly less confident I had made the right decision.

_INSTRUCTIONS: Please list as many words or phrases YOU think are applicable in each column._

_Admirable Qualities     _ _Signs of Success      Definitions of Happiness_

I kind of couldn’t believe what I was seeing. For a minute I considered that maybe I was being Punk’d, and I looked around for some douche-bag to jump out from behind the couch with a camera, and for Dr. Inara, Wes, and Gunn to walk out to reveal this was all a hoax, including Royce’s death. Then I rationalized that I was going way too far with that consideration, and I took a deep breath before attempting eye contact with Victoria.

“Okay…” I paused, gathering myself completely so that I could have a constructive conversation with a teenage victim of sexual abuse about her inner thoughts on what was admirable, successful, and good enough to make her happy. “It looks like you haven’t started yet. What’s holding you back?”

I wondered if Victoria was as apprehensive to start this exercise as I was, and, if so, for similar reasons. Not that I had thought much about what gave me pause about the exercise. When I’d finally sat down to start my own lists I’d just shut my eyes and jumped in with both feet without thinking about it, because when I even paused momentarily, my heart started to race. I suppose Dr. Inara would say I had been panicking.

Victoria shrugged in response--typical reaction.

“How about you name a few people you admire and then we talk about why you admire them?”

Another shrug. “Whatever. You’re the one in charge.”

I had to think about what it meant that she was willing to give up so easily. She thought I was in charge, and it appeared that she would resist anything I told her to do at that moment, but this assignment required her engagement. I needed to figure out how to empower her.

“I’m not, though,” I replied. “This is your assignment. I’m just here to back you up.”

I slid the paper back a few inches so it sat ambiguously between us, daring us both to take a step, to define it somehow, but I wouldn’t budge. The ball was in her court.

“Guts,” she answered eventually.

It was a single word with a lot of different meanings and uses. Kind of like the word “fuck.” I amused myself momentarily thinking of the documentary I had watched with Riley and Alec last winter, and how Alec laughed himself to tears rewinding Pat Boone’s scenes. I shook my head and took a leap at helping her define that word.

“You admire bravery?” Victoria nodded and shifted in her seat, then began to twist the ends of her curly red hair. Her gaze remained on the table, instead of looking me in the eye. She was nervous.

Today she sat fresh-faced and plainly dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. Without make-up she looked like she was nowhere near her 16 years; she was such a young, pretty girl.

“Okay.” I pushed the page closer to her. “Why don’t you write that down under Admirable Qualities?”

Victoria shifted in her seat some more and bit her lip as she scrawled the word _bravery_ in the first column. She tapped her pen back and forth a few times then eyed me out of the corner of her eye again before writing _honesty_ just underneath _bravery_.

“I hate liars,” she said, off-handedly.

I nodded silently in agreement. I was impressed with her courage to move forward and choose another word to write in that column. Also, I hated liars, too.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me, too.”

Victoria and I kept on that way until it was time for dinner, when we packed up her pen and paper to keep with her schoolwork and backpack in the office.

“Cool tat.”

Victoria gestured to the inside of my wrist, where I had a small heart outlined in black with an abstract rendering of a lion’s head inside. The only color was a bit of red surrounding the lion, barely filling out the heart.

I had made it a habit to wear long sleeves to the shelter to cover my arms. Wes and Gunn didn’t require that of me, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate for the kids to see all the ink and the possible implications of my tats. I didn’t go into detail with Victoria about when or why I got it, or that it was my first tattoo. A lion in a heart was a symbol for bravery and courage, which was the first thing on Victoria’s list. I didn’t want to think about the fact that she may be trying to play me, remembering that Wes had said she was manipulative, so instead I just thanked her and told her to get cleaned up for dinner.

I kept my distance from her the rest of my shift, helping get the kids to bed, watching as Kaylee, another of the volunteers, coaxed Victoria to go to her room. I noted in the logbook exactly what I had considered in my mind about Victoria’s answers, our terse interaction, and my suspicions that she was trying to gain some kind of footing with me. What I didn’t note in the logbook was how I internalized it all.

I had never considered what my first tattoo really meant to me. My high school boyfriend thought it was cool, and my mom cringed when she signed the card that said she’d allow me to get it done. It made me feel badass and rebellious, getting a tattoo when I was 17. 

As I was thinking about being a 17 year old badass while I was packing up my bag to leave for the night I got an idea. “Gunn, how do you feel about self-defense classes for the kids here?”

“Physical activities, especially activities that give them structure and boundaries? I’m all about it. But it’s expensive, I’ve looked into it.” Gunn was cleaning, literally Clorox wiping, every surface in the fucking office. Wesley was totally immersed in the logbooks.

“What if I know somebody?” I did know somebody who could do self-defense classes at the shelter, but I might have been taking a real leap to think that Edward would do me any kind of favor. Still, something told me he would dig the shit out of working with these kids.

Gunn grinned as he tossed a used Clorox wipe into the garbage. "If you got the hook-up, Blondie, work it."


	6. Crush

_It's okay to fuck up as long as you make it right._

That was my new mantra and the goal I decided to work on with Dr. Inara. I always had a mantra, but it was usually more of the _he's just not that into you_ or _just 10 more pounds_ variety. I was thankful to Gunn for planting the new idea in my head.

Before Royce's death, I had spent literally my entire life immersed in the seemingly impervious opinions of my friends and family. It hadn't even occurred to me to question them and do something different.

After Royce's death, though, signals shifted in transmission. I suddenly started to hear tunes I'd never heard before. I didn't understand what it was about Royce's death that caused the shift, but I began to doubt all of the opinions that had at one time seemed unquestionably true. Somewhere in my subconscious, I recognized, with Dr. Inara's gentle but consistent prodding, that I needed to make a change. However small or large the blip of Royce's death had caused, I was thankful for the interruption.

I had told Riley about Royce the night we went out for his birthday, but I had yet to take similar steps with Riley that I had with Alice and Emmett. Riley was a bit more complicated. He was forever my white knight, but he was the least sentimental—if not most irreverent—person I knew. I wasn't surprised when, after I told him about Royce, he hugged me hard then looked me in the eye and said, "Well, then, this is even more cause for celebration."

In order to succeed with Riley, I would need a bit more finesse and maybe some trickery. I decided to be a little less transparent with him about my mission by starting off with an innocent invitation to lunch in the park. I sent him a text one morning, saying I would make wraps and lemonade and meet him after his class.

After a mind-numbing meeting with my advisor, I walked out into the sun to find Riley on a park bench. I braced myself for what was to come. Riley would be a tough nut to crack because of his naturally rough exterior, his refusal to allow me to be critical of myself, and his inability to have a serious conversation about anything for any length of time, but I was going to meet the challenge head-on.

As much as Riley deserved to know that I loved him, and to be acknowledged and venerated for always taking care of me, I also needed to make the strides for myself. I needed to make the decision on my own and follow through with what needed to be done.

"You're late," Riley said to me in lieu of a greeting as I approached the bench where he sat.

"No, I'm not," I replied, dropping the bag of food in his lap. "I'm right on time. Your watch is probably fast as usual. I have no idea how you effectively tell time, ever."

For some reason, Riley kept his watch set to bar time and refused to look at his phone for the real time. He insisted, "if you're on time, you're late", so he was 15 minutes early wherever he went. If I had a nickel for every time we'd had the same conversation, I could afford a tropical vacation for both of us, and Riley would make sure we wouldn't miss our flight.

"One of these days," I said, "you're going to tell some freshman it's three-thirty and she's gonna think she missed her final exam."

Riley's face lit with delight at the impish possibility. He was constantly pulling pranks, nothing harmful, but always a little bit rotten. Like the time he put a bowl full of Harry Potter Jelly Belly's out at a party that we weren't invited to, then stood back in the corner and laughed his ass off at people who ate _snot_ and _vomit_ flavored candy.

"You are a genius!" he exclaimed as he reached inside the bag to retrieve our wraps.

I grinned, disgustingly proud of my devious suggestion to intentionally mislead under-classmen.

I slid my messenger bag over my shoulder and onto the bench next to him. I had a thermos of fresh squeezed lemonade, a la Martha Stewart, and some cups in my bag. I also had a cupcake that I had picked up at the bakery that morning on my way to class, but I wasn't going to let Riley see it until I had a feeling he would play nicely with me.

I settled beside him, and we dug into our lunches. He asked how my meeting went, and I asked about Alec.

"He's being a total bitch about moving, but I'm sick and tired of listening to the red-necks in the apartment next to us fight over what starch to have with which cut of game every fucking night."

Riley's neighbors were hunters. He had been complaining for two years that all they did was drag bloody meat around the yard, smoke or grill said meat, discuss which type of potato to eat with the meat, and eat it. I'm sure they did more than Riley's rendition of a caveman act, but I didn't care enough about them to ever bore into their real story.

"What's to discuss?" I asked jokingly. "A potato's a potato."

"This is what I'm saying," Riley agreed.

I poured more lemonade into our cups and watched Riley check his too-fast watch, then eye me sideways.

"Shouldn't you be in black?" he quipped.

"Not the real widow, remember?" I replied.

"Real enough," Riley mumbled, squinting into the sun and chewing his lunch before swallowing slowly.

Riley didn't really like heart-to-hearts. He was a fierce protector, and I knew he loved me. He always made his point when he felt it necessary, and he usually thought it was necessary to make it very clear to me that _I_ was important.

"Thanks, Ri," I said without much pomp and circumstance, because I knew he wouldn't want to be called out for being sensitive, of all things. "When's your next class?"

"Meh," he answered with a shrug. "I need to get home and get some laundry done and pack. Alec's fucking color blind. I don't want him anywhere near my laundry."

I was sure he had said as much to Alec's face, too.

Riley tugged at my heart every minute I was with him and whenever we were apart, because I knew what kind of person he really was. If Alice thought I had a lot of love to give, Riley had more. Unfortunately, it took a lot of patience and dancing around his stabby, little porcupine quills to get to it. I worried that Alec would just pick up and leave one day soon, sick of waiting for Riley to stop being difficult.

"Okay, well, I need something from you first."

I removed the cupcake from my bag, and Riley eyed the frosted confection. I knew I had him right where I wanted him.

"I was kind of hoping that you'd help me with my volunteer project."

"At the shelter?" he asked, practically salivating over the tiny cake next to me on the bench.

"Yeah," I answered. "I have to write a paper after the whole process is over, so I need your help with that."

Riley eyed me skeptically, but then quickly shrugged it off. He wasn't a Psych major, but he was always on top of me to make sure I got my shit done. I had always appreciated his support, but this time, I had an ulterior motive. I wanted him to see that I would be able to take care of myself.

"Sure," he replied. "What's your focus?"

"I need to detail my experience, of course, but I also need to talk about how it's affected my career path, ya know?"

He nodded in understanding.

Riley was so used to taking care of me. He also knew I didn't have a real plan before Royce died, so I was going to need to prove to him that I was able to change all of that for the better. Then I could thank him for years of loving and watching over me.

"And?" he asked with an arched brow.

"And, I don't know yet, but I'm diggin' it so far," I said. "I do know that I'm frustrated that I can't help the kids more."

Riley looked surprised, but he grinned at me and seemed outwardly pleased, proud even. I decided not to take his look of shock too personally and instead enjoyed his beaming smile.

"I told you that you should have gone to nursing school, Rosalie," he said, scowling and reverting back into his surly veneer. "But do you listen to me? No."

"You're right," I said, hands up in surrender. "You're always right."

"Yes," he agreed, adjusting his sunglasses on his face.

"So, you'll help me?" I asked.

"I said I would," he replied petulantly.

"Great!"

"Great," he mumbled. "Now give me that cupcake."

* * *

I had broached the topic with Gunn of getting self-defense classes for the kids, but had yet to reach out to Edward. As much as I usually procrastinated with shit like asking for help, I wasn't procrastinating this time; I had just been really busy all week. I promised Gunn on Thursday that I would have the ball rolling by my next shift on the following Tuesday.

Luckily, I saw Esme on Saturday morning, as I was coming back from my walk. She was pruning something or weeding, or… something. I knew nothing about gardening. I did appreciate her efforts, though. The property looked beautiful.

"Hey there," I called out. "How are you this morning?"

"Good!" Esme answered. "How are you?"

"Really good," I answered with a smile.

I took my earbuds out and paused the music on my phone.

I needed to get Edward's number from her so I could call him about teaching lessons for the kids. I wasn't sure how Esme would interpret me asking for his number, though. I didn't expect her to be upset, necessarily, but Royce had only been dead for three weeks. I did _not_ want Esme to think I was moving in on her brother in-law .

"Hey, I've been thinking about those self-defense classes that Edward teaches," I began. "And I was wondering if I could get his number to talk to him about coming to the shelter to do something with the kids."

Esme had already started to stand and take her gloves off as I drew nearer to her, but as soon as she heard what I asked she bolted upright with the most brilliant smile on her face.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed. "That is so perfect for him, Rose."

She dropped her gloves to the ground and dug through her pockets, presumably looking for her phone. Once she found it, she scrolled through her contacts and rattled off his number. I had already opened a new screen with Edward's name, so it was easy for me to enter his number, but Esme repeated it anyway, just to be sure I "got it all right."

"Thanks," I said. "Do you have any idea what his schedule is today?"

The thought of calling Edward right away ramped up what Dr. Inara defined as a panic attack, so I breathed deeply through my nose and thought about ocean waves to calm me.

"Just call him," Esme insisted.

She was vehement that I call him almost immediately, which did nothing for my panic. I tried to joke with her about whether or not it was okay for me to shower first.

"Of course," she said with a forced laughed. "Shower, by all means, but I'm sure he's just hanging out with Masen today. Maybe he's looking for something to do!"

 _So much for her thinking_ I'm _moving too fast._

I needed to slow the train down, pronto. Thankfully, my trademarked inability to hide my aggravation with awkward shit clued Esme in, because I could practically hear the truck beeping as she backed up.

"I mean, he'll be anxious to get some work and start getting involved in the community."

Esme's discombobulated, un-Esmelike behavior aside, I wrapped up our conversation with as much grace as I could muster and took my time climbing my stairs. Then I took some more time in the shower. I washed my hair twice and conditioned it then shaved and slathered on deep moisturizer after I was dry.

Once I was seated at my kitchen island with a glass of iced tea and lemon, I stopped stalling and pulled up Edward's information to call him. I heard the line buzz twice before he answered formally, like it was a business call.

"This is Edward."

"Hi, it's Rose," I said, calmly as possible, remembering to breathe. "Carlisle and Esme's party girl neighbor?"

I took the joking route to diffuse any possible tension. Plus, I couldn't resist digging into him a little.

"Rose…"

Edward sounded slightly taken aback, which was surprisingly refreshing. I was relieved that I wasn't the only one who was a little nervous. I felt my panic begin to ebb and break away, just like the waves I'd been trying to imagine.

"Yes," I answered and waited for him to speak.

"H-hey," he stammered. "How are you? What… um…?"

He sounded totally off his game. Not that I knew anything about his game, but I had encountered many different facets of Edward in the short time that I'd known him: playful, teasing, kind to his family, arrogant, passionate, and apologetic. My heart softened a little as my instincts told me to stop snap-judging him the way I had condemned him for judging me.

"Esme gave me your number so I could talk to you about self-defense classes for the kids I work with."

"Kids?"

His voice brightened and I heard him smile, and dammit if he didn't melt the tension even further.

"Yeah, I work at the Rosenberg Shelter for Youth," I explained, getting up from my seat to pace the floor. "And I was talking to the managers the other day about trying to get the residents more active, give them structure, ya know? And I automatically thought of you."

"I'd love to help," he answered without hesitation. "Just tell me what you need."

I stopped pacing.

I didn't know what to expect from him, but I certainly hadn't expected him to be immediately agreeable.

"Well, I'll need to figure some things out with Gunn and Wes first—the managers—about schedules and compensation."

I started pacing again, because it helped me think. I was less anxiety ridden than when I had first dialed his number, but I was sort of obsessing over what he was thinking, and if I was telling him all the right things, and if I was a good representative of the shelter.

"Do you have better days or times that work for you?" I asked.

I came to a stop in front of my refrigerator and face-to-face with a picture of Royce playing air guitar at a Halloween party the year before. He was Angus Young and I was a Catholic schoolgirl. I pulled the picture out from under the refrigerator magnet and threw it in the trash. As I watched the trashcan lid drop closed, I felt a certain lightness and vowed to myself to _really_ clean house the next day.

"I just have the weekly sessions I planned for Monday and Wednesday nights right now," Edward said. "No privates yet."

"Okay, great," I said, turning my back on the trash. "What are your rates?"

He paused.

I froze.

I hoped I hadn't crossed a line in asking about his rates, stirring up the tension again, but I could almost _feel_ the disquiet through the phone. I didn't want to be on this call any longer than I had to be. I had hoped to conduct and wrap up my business smoothly, and it had been going so well. So far.

"Well, why don't you let me know what your budget is and I can work with that?" he said. "But, before we hang up-"

_So much for wrapping things up smoothly…_

"Save it," I cut him off. "You don't need to apologize."

I _definitely_ didn't want to stay on the phone if we were going to apologize and rehash a bunch of crap. I'd been doing that a lot lately, but Edward wasn't Alice, Emmet, or Riley, and rehashing took a lot of fucking energy.

"I wasn't planning to apologize," he informed me. "I wanted to explain what you may think you overheard."

I hated roller coasters—real ones and emotional ones—and Edward kept tossing me on and off emotional roller coaster after emotional roller coaster. One minute he was all timid and apologetic, making me feel guilty and soft, and the next he was all, "I'm not _apologizing_ , silly girl."

_Dick._

"I didn't hear anything," I replied.

My voice shook with an edge of anger. I wished so hard that I hadn't opened our conversation with a jab, no matter how playful I had intended it, and that he would just leave the issue alone. I wanted to hang up the phone.

"If you didn't hear anything, then why would you hastily assume I had anything to apologize for?" he asked.

" _I'm_ hasty?"

I had no idea what kind of magical piss-people-off powers he was packing, but it was maddening. I wanted to smack his pretty face just for sitting there, but when he was trying to egg me on, I felt like scratching his eyes out.

"Look, let's back up a little bit," Edward said, his voice calm. "I like you, okay? And you're my brother and sister in-law's tenant, and _they_ happen to like you. I just wanna clear the air."

I didn't feel the air clearing. The air was like smog in the summertime.

"I'm not hasty," I said, in a set-him-straight tone.

"Okay," he conceded with that cocky grin in his voice. "You are entirely without haste. But let me explain something to you, please."

I took a deep breath and _chose_ to allow him to continue to speak. My life was not going to be dictated by arrogant assholes any longer, but he deserved to say his piece.

"Proceed."

I heard him chuckle.

"As I said," Edward began to speak, "Carlisle and Esme really like you. They also have hopes that something will develop between us, but I'm not really looking for anything-"

"Neither am I," I cut in.

"I just got out of a really complicated relationship."

"And my boyfriend just died," I blurted.

It was like I was competing for who had the worst story to tell. It hadn't occurred to me that Edward may not have known about Royce's death until after I gracelessly dumped it in his lap. But, then, Esme hadn't really told me much about him either, just that he had been through a lot.

"Wow... I didn't know the details," he said. "Jesus. I'm… damn."

As usual, I had rendered a nice, normal person almost speechless with my abrupt bitchiness.

I silently wished for a time when Edward and I might hit some kind of friendly groove. I wanted to be able to get along with him, because even through the bouts of conflict, he seemed like a really good person.

"Yeah," I replied quietly.

Several seconds passed and I paced as I listened to Edward breathing on the other end of the line. Somehow, just listening to him breathe, knowing he was there and not bolting, really thinking about what I'd said, possibly weighing his response and how it might affect me and our conversation, regardless of any disagreements we'd had or might have in the future, made me feel good.

"I think…"

I swore I could hear him thinking.

"Carlisle and Esme thought we could keep each other company more than anything," he said. "Which is great, because, like I said, I do like you. I just wanted to make it clear to them that you and I were in no way jumping into something romantic."

All the times I'd thought of Edward naked flashed through my mind: the showerhead, the tattoos, the garden hose. And then I thought about the voice on the other end of the line. The expressive voice that was attached to those images, but was also full of real life and emotion and intent. Edward was unfolding, much like his sister in-law had, to be a very complex, passionate person, who I wanted to get to know better. He was more than some hot guy washing his car.

"I have no interest in romance," I answered honestly. "I mean, you're a great guy, but I should be, like, mourning."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

His inquiry was absolutely genuine. I felt warm all over, and not the way I had when I saw him on my half-drunken walk back from the High School Boy Incident.

"Not really," I answered. "I guess I just wanted you to know I have my own crap going on. But I'm sorry I was so… abrupt."

"No worries," he said.

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you wanna talk about your childhood trauma?"

He laughed lightly then knocked me on my ass.

"My ex OD'd on heroin this winter. It was the second time it had happened, and I was done."

I gasped, for real. I was just as shocked as he had been by my blunt admission about Royce.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Thanks," he said, and I heard him shift, slightly muffling the sound through the phone. "The relationship was done a long time before that, though. Having to take care of someone like they're your child kind of squelches any romantic urge you may have once had, know what I mean?"

"Makes sense," I replied.

My heart broke for him. He had so much—as Alice would say about me and I would say about Riley—love to give. I didn't know him that well yet, but I saw it in the way he was with Carlisle and Esme, the way he talked about that dog, and even the confusing way he treated me.

"Anyway," he continued. "I never intended to compare you to Siobhan at all. You're young and in college, you have every right to cut loose, and you should. I was speaking more about the fact that I can't focus on anything else but me right now."

"I get that."

I totally fucking got that. Edward and I were like two peas in a pod. It was kind of eerie, really.

"Okay," Edward said, laughing nervously. "What do we talk about now that we've drug our dirty laundry out in the open? The weather?"

I laughed, too—not nervously, but genuinely—at the absurdity of it all and in relief that we'd addressed the elephant in the room. I felt a weight had lifted and was anxious to move past the thing that was causing so much of the uneasiness between Edward and I.

We did talk about the weather after that. Then we talked about Masen, and I told Edward about Jimbo, because I thought he might appreciate my tough little boy and his saga of survival. As we were hanging up the phone, I reiterated that I would talk with Wes and Gunn about Edward's schedule and come up with a bid on his work.

I slept better that night than I had in weeks.

* * *

On Tuesday night after I got home from the shelter, I risked calling Edward, even though it was after 10 p.m. I had news for him and thought he'd like to know sooner rather than later.

"They said Fridays or Saturdays would be great, but our budget is pretty much non-existent, so Gunn's gonna go talk to some donors and see what we can come up with."

"He doesn't need to do that," Edward said. "I thought about it and I'd like to donate my time."

I didn't say anything in response, because I didn't know what to say except to thank him. But before I could even do that, he asked, "What night are you there?"

"Um, I'm there on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"No weekends, huh?"

"No," I said, feeling my face flush at the thought that Edward might want to schedule his time around me. "But _thank you_ for your donation. That's _huge_ , Edward, really. Gunn will be so excited."

"It's the least I can do," he said, taking a deep, audible breath. "I can do Saturday pretty easily."

I made a mental note to ask for an extra shift to boost up my volunteer portfolio. Specifically Saturday.

"I'll let them know," I said.

"Thank you," he replied. "I really needed this."

He was saying the same thing Esme seemed to have said, that he _needed_ it. But since he wasn't taking any money for it, I assumed it was more than money that he needed.

"It's my pleasure."

Carlisle's brother was kind of awesome, I decided. The Cullen parents must've been fucking ecstatic to have them as sons.

"Oh," Edward said. "I should ask, is there a dress code or anything?"

I smiled at his question, because he sounded so serious and concerned. I liked concerned Edward. He wasn't afraid, but cautious. People who were cautious were generally careful and considerate. I liked having considerate people in my life.

"Use your discretion," I said. "But just make sure all your parts are covered."

I laughed as I rinsed Jimbo's water bowl and gave him fresh water. I had to do that twice a day. That cat was a princess.

"My parts?" Edward sounded amused. "Like, I should be wearing pants? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Pants are necessary."

"Good to know," he said. "Anything else?"

"Well, the kids can be pretty manipulative."

"I can imagine."

Remembering his heroin addict ex, I could only assume that he knew manipulation as well as the rest of us, if not better.

"But Wes and Gunn are super cool," I said. "You'll like them."

"Is gun a nickname?"

"No, it's his last name. G-U-N-N."

"Ahhh."

"I have no idea where it comes from."

"Whaddaya mean, where it comes from?"

I heard a rustling that sounded suspiciously like a bag of chips. I thought about how lean Edward was then silently cursed him for being able to sit around and eat whatever the hell he wanted to, whenever he wanted to do it.

"For example, Hale is Welsh," I answered. "What about Cullen?"

"English," Edward rudely mumbled around a mouthful of something crunchy.

"Are you eating potato chips in my ear?"

"Uhhh… Tostitos… Hint of Lime."

He sounded out each word like he was reading the package for the first time in his life. My mouth watered. I _loved_ those chips.

_Jerk._

If I couldn't have the chips, for fear of gaining 15 pounds overnight, he shouldn't get to be so smug about eating them without even knowing what they were.

_And now I'm a tortilla chip hipster._

"Okay, fess up, _Cullen,_ " I said, busying my wanting-to-snack hands with putting away random pens and scraps of paper I found laying around. "I saw the Celtic cross on your back. What's that about?"

"My great-grandfather was a fighter in the Irish Republican army."

I heard more chip eating, which made me want to go back and raid my cupboards for something crunchy and salty, but I also wanted to know more about this great-grandfather.

"But you just said Cullen is English."

I tossed a pen into a bin then gave up on making my apartment a tidy place to live.

"Isn't that, like, blasphemy?" I asked.

"You asked about the name, not the blood. My great-grandmother had an affair with an Irish fighter."

"Ooh, _scandal_."

"Shush and let me tell you the story," he said, as I heard him rolling the chip bag closed and tossing it aside. "He was killed before my grandfather was born."

"Oh," I replied with a frown as I took a seat on my couch and started to brush Jimbo. "Sorry."

"No, it's actually a story my family loves to tell."

I was happy to hear that, because I really wanted to know the story. Riley and Alice always pegged me as a romantic. I would never admit it, but sitting here alone in my apartment, listening to Edward tell me about his great-grandparents and their tortured separation sucked my girly, romantic heart right in. Even if there was cheating involved.

"When my great-grandmother's childhood sweetheart found out she was pregnant and alone, he offered to marry her, giving her and her son the name Cullen."

"Wasn't he pissed?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Great-grandpa Cullen."

"Why would he be pissed?" Edward asked. "He loved her."

"And she was fucking somebody else."

"She wasn't _fucking_ somebody else," Edward scoffed. "She was in love."

I snorted, as I pushed Jimbo aside then got up off the couch for a glass of wine.

"What?" Edward asked. "You don't believe in love?"

"He loved her and she loved somebody else," I sang. "Love stinks, haven't you heard the song?"

"God, you're so romantic," he deadpanned. "You're gonna make me swoon."

We ended up chatting through two glasses of wine. I told Edward about my mom's insane and skewed accounts of our family history, and he played Pink Floyd songs on his guitar while we each watched an episode of South Park on Comedy Central.

After we hung up, I turned off all the lights in my apartment, scooped up Jimbo, and headed to bed without even thinking about taking a sleep-aid.

* * *

I had called Gunn on Wednesday to tell him Edward wanted to donate his time, and Gunn was fucking psyched. He asked me to call Edward and invite him to the shelter for dinner on Thursday as a "humble thanks", and I happily agreed to relay the message.

Per Edward and my track record, we got the business end of our conversation out of the way within a few minutes, then veered wildly off-topic when I jokingly asked if he was gay since he'd used the word "swoon" in our previous conversation and identified something as "periwinkle" in our most recent discussion.

"I don't like sex with dudes, so, no, I'm not gay."

"Have you ever _tried_ sex with a dude?" I asked. "You just might like it."

I was met with silence on the other end of the line and almost choked on my Greek salad.

"No _way_!" I shouted. "Seriously?"

"I have _not_ had sex with a guy," Edward answered. "But, I did kiss a guy once. I didn't enjoy it."

"Oh, my God, Edward," I said. "You cannot leave it at _I didn't enjoy it_! You have to tell me the story!"

"I just told you a story," he snapped. "I told you all about the _periwinkle linens_ at the fundraiser I went to last weekend. Now it's your turn."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I shrieked. "You drop the bomb that you kissed a guy and you think I'm gonna tell you about my teddy bear when I was six?"

"You don't have to tell me about a teddy bear," Edward said, then paused, and it sounded like he was taking a drink of something. "You could tell me about a time when _you_ kissed a guy."

"None of those are interesting stories compared to _you_ kissing a guy," I asserted. "Was he hot? You have to at least tell me what he looked like."

"Rosalie, I have no idea..."

Edward was so annoyed with me, and it was hilarious. But he continued to answer.

"He was blonde. My height… I don't know what else to say."

"What was his name?" I asked as I abandoned my salad on the kitchen island to pour a glass of Chardonnay from the fridge.

"His name was Jasper," Edward answered, still annoyed. "Can we move on now?"

The thought of Edward kissing a tall blonde guy, who may or may not have had scruff, a similar build as his, and a few strategically placed tattoos (the wishful, creative side of my brain was at full power) was making me unexpectedly warm. Edward, on the other hand, just sounded uncomfortable, so I graciously segued into something equally as embarrassing for me. Tit for tat, one might say.

"I lost my virginity when I was sixteen to a petty drug dealer from the Catholic high school," I admitted. "His name was James. We worked together a few nights a week at the movie theater in the mall."

"Hmm," Edward grunted, seeming to come back to the conversation now that I was humiliating myself. "Did he at least drive a cool car?"

"Duh," I answered. "He drove a BMW. And he told me I had pretty hair."

I uncorked and poured the wine, watching the pretty gold color sparkle in the dim light of my kitchen.

"You do have pretty hair," Edward said.

I scoffed and felt myself blush. I couldn't recall blushing a whole lot before I'd met Edward.

"What other embarrassment can you tell me about?" Edward asked.

I loved talking to him on the phone because I could hear what he was feeling. Edward was one of the most expressive people I'd ever met besides Alice, and it wasn't just his face; his voice, the sounds he made, all so expressive. Right then, I could hear the small, amused smile on his face as he enjoyed our continued exchange of tales.

"Well…"

I thought about what to tell him next about my stupendous first boyfriend. James was one of my favorite stories to tell because there was just so much truth like fiction. Emmett always said I should write a book about my relationship with James.

"The night of our somewhat unremarkable first coupling, we were watching TV while my parents slept upstairs. He told me I was hot before he gallantly rolled on a condom."

"I kinda feel like you're lying right now, what with the condom usage," Edward joked. "Are you sure this guy was a _petty_ drug dealer?"

I laughed, and so did Edward.

"To be honest, I was a little disappointed in the act, but I loved him, right?"

"Did you?"

His question gave me pause. I always thought I loved James. I thought I loved Riley and Alice and Royce, too. Maybe it didn't work out, but I at least _believed_ I loved them all.

"Of course," I said. "And, I was sure sex would get better if I just kept practicing. You know, like in those romance novels?"

"Okay, that kid didn't stand a chance," Edward laughed. "My cousins used to read that shit out loud. I was scarred for life thinking I could never live up."

I laughed.

"I used to sneak into my mom and dad's room and steal them from under their bed," I said.

"Talk about scandal," he said.

" _Anyhoo_ , James continued to leave me wondering when my _Danielle Steele_ moment would arrive almost every night for a year-and-a-half."

"Boy's got game."

I heard a bottle pop open and pour into a glass. Edward was kicking back and relaxing into our conversation, too. He was easy to talk to and he was funny. I decided to tell him the real scandal and open myself up to the kind of scrutiny I hated.

"Well, he tried," I said. "That is until he got arrested for drunk driving."

"Oops," Edward laughed, and I heard him swallow again as he drank what I assumed was a beer.

I wondered what kind of beer he was drinking. I knew he liked porter, but I wondered if maybe he was drinking a stout? I planned to ask him what his favorite beer was, as soon as I finished telling him about my stupid teenage boyfriend.

"Exactly," I said. " _And_ … That same arrest gleaned a subsequent charge for intent to sell as a result of the pound of pot and three sheets of acid hidden under the passenger seat."

The only description I could come up with for what Edward did then was _guffaw_.

"My dad got involved in the legalities at some point… I'm not entirely sure whatever happened to James, but I never heard from him again."

"Narc?" Edward asked.

"Probably," I answered. "He wasn't the brightest or bravest person I'd ever known."

"Question."

"No, dude, it's your turn now! You have to tell me about Jasper."

"One question and then I'll tell you."

I had been talking forever, longer than I normally ever talked about myself, and longer than he'd talked about himself before. The last time I had talked like that I was with Dr. Inara. Before that I was with Alice.

"One question," I relented. "And then you're telling me all about your boyfriend."

Edward's responding chuckle had an edge to it. Evidently, he didn't like my teasing.

"Do you do drugs?" he asked.

If I had been talking to anyone else, who hadn't had an ex who'd overdosed on heroin twice, I might've been offended or thought it was an odd question.

"I've smoked a few joints," I admitted. "Taken a few hits of acid… I drink a lot of caffeinated beverages. I've also been known to pop a diet pill or two."

"Diet pills…"

I could almost hear Edward shake his head in disappointment. But the disappointment I heard was different than the disappointment I heard from my mom and dad about my life choices, or from Royce when another workout would fail to shrink my thighs.

"What the fuck goes on with women?" Edward asked.

It was a rhetorical question and it sort of amused me, but it also sort of pissed me off. No surprise. That mix of emotions had formed a distinct pattern whenever I spoke with Edward.

"Oh hi, sexist pig," I said.

"Sexist pig?" he replied. "How does my frustration with a woman's disdain for herself equate to sexism?"

I was getting used to debating with Edward, but usually when I pissed a guy off with debate, he'd just roll his eyes and try to get me naked to distract me. I guessed Edward didn't have that luxury since we were on the phone. Also, he had no interest in getting me naked.

"You are totally making generalizations about me based on the fact that I'm a woman."

Edward ignored my logic and continued to rant.

"It fucking kills me that a woman as beautiful as you can't see it, and instead wallows in self-hate."

I wished hearing those words didn't have the affect on me that they did, but my stomach flipped the same way it had the first time I talked to him and twice the night I had dinner at Esme's. As much as I wanted to be "just friends" with Edward, I couldn't help but let his words, and the fact that he wanted to have a relationship with me that wasn't based on sex, make my heart beat a little faster. I honestly hadn't felt that pure of heart about anyone since I was a child.

Maybe it was because he didn't know I felt any of the things I was feeling. Maybe it was because he wasn't pushing me away or asking me for something else entirely. But I was in love with the thrill of just being allowed to be… _giddy_ over him.

"You don't have to butter me up with compliments, you know," I said through my smile and blush. "I'll still endorse your class at the shelter."

I heard him take a deep breath and then let it out.

"Alright," he said after a brief pause. "I'm not gonna Dr. Phil you, but at least try to be good to yourself, okay?"

Since I'd hit puberty, I had dedicated hours to working out and going to the gym. I'd waxed, tanned, plucked, and exfoliated. Yet, I was still never right. I was too loud, too fat, too slow, and too blonde; I was always wrong.

Edward, no matter what a gushy mess he made me, was not going to change that.

"I'll do what I can," I answered quietly with a small smile.

We finished our call around midnight, but I was still looking forward to seeing him on Thursday at the shelter. I wasn't breaking my promise to myself to stop making shit up in my head, but I was going to allow myself to enjoy the very real feelings that Edward gave me with his simple words and friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you TheHeartofLife and OneLilHopeful for the pre-reads.


	7. The Knight and the Dark Rose

Thursday was insane. I met with my advisor again, which was always a productive thing, but never very pleasant. It was obvious that she thought I was kind of an airhead. She did seem pretty impressed with my decision to volunteer at the shelter, though, and made positive comments about my subsequent successes there. However, that was somewhat short lived, when she kicked it up a notch to ask what my plans were after my volunteer stint would end.

I was like, "Bitch, back the fuck off. I have been making  _progress_  here. Be glad I even took the volunteer gig. Damn."

I didn't really say that to her, but it was totally what I was thinking.

After our meeting, I had three classes and then I had to go to the shelter. I would have been lying like a rug if I had tried to convince anyone, even myself, that I wasn't just about coming out of my skin with excitement to see Edward at the shelter that night.

I was late to work because my already hectic day of meetings and classes was topped off with a fender bender in the parking lot at the grocery store. No major damage, but the woman who hit my open car door was a total fucking whiner, so it took forever to get to the shelter after dealing with that shit.

When I walked through the door, I was greeted with a sight for sore eyes: Gunn and Edward talking like old friends, just like I knew they would, and looking like a couple of bad ass wet dreams.

"Hey," I greeted when I got close enough to not have to yell to be heard over the din of children and teens coming in from school.

Edward and Gunn each took note of my presence with a grin. Gunn's was elated, I assumed because he was pleased with Edward's donated time and obvious competence, and the fact that they were like a match made in heaven. Edward's smile was warm and bright like the sun. I couldn't help but smile widely in return at them.

"Hey," Edward said.

Fucking fuck, he was so fucking hot.

"Hi…" I repeated my initial greeting, like a total dork.

I felt my face flush, and Gunn arched a brow then volleyed his gaze between Edward and me, like we were either the most intriguing or the most ridiculous things he'd seen all day. I was so busy blushing and trying to hide it that I didn't even realize Wesley was directly behind me until he spoke.

"Hello, Rosalie."

I jumped and yelped. The kids in line for bag check laughed out loud, including my favorite little manipulator, Victoria.

"Jeez, Wes," she said. "You practically scared the crap out of her."

She laughed then mocked a horrified expression.

"Oh… oops!" she said with a hand over her mouth. "Can I say crap, or am I gonna get docked?"

Gunn rolled his eyes, and Edward laughed quietly. I just stood there thanking God that the attention was somewhat taken off of me, even though I was sort of the butt of Victoria's joke. Anything was better than drawing attention to my reaction to Edward's presence.

"Please, take your meds and go sit quietly and read," Wes non-answered Victoria. "I realize you don't have any schoolwork, but do keep busy for the next fifteen minutes or so."

"Ooh… what's gonna happen in fifteen minutes?" Victoria asked before swallowing her pills and drinking from the small paper cup of water to wash it down.

"You'll find out, Sassafrass, now go do what Wes asked," Gunn answered, and she rolled her eyes.

When Victoria wandered off, Gunn's and Edward's attention returned to me, making me nervous and fidgety again.

"Sorry I'm late."

I turned away from them to walk into the office, busying myself and attempting to cover up how edgy I felt with apologies and the stashing of my bag. Wes followed me, but I could still hear Gunn and Edward talking quietly. I hoped Gunn was giving him a rundown of the daily routine so he could see how he'd fit into the mix instead of talking about me. Not that I thought so highly of myself, but I felt like I had made a scene, so I wouldn't blame them if they were standing there talking about what a freak I was.

"I had one of those days," I said over my shoulder to Wes. "But, as my dad always says, I won't ruin an apology with an excuse."

"Smart man, your father," Wes answered. "That's a lesson I hope to teach many of these kids here."

Wes was polite, as always, with his response. He seemed distracted, but was engaged enough to respond appropriately and get a little bit of something out of the interaction. I made a note to talk to Wes and Gunn about picking up Saturday nights as an additional shift then flipped through the logbook to get a brief overview of Wednesday. I had thought a lot about adding the shift after I had met with my advisor and while I was listening to the woman who wrecked my car door complain about her deductible. I decided that even though the additional hours would fulfill my requirement sooner, I would still stay on until the end of the semester.

"When you're finished with the logs, we should join them in the main room," Wes said. "Gunn wants to introduce Edward before dinner and give the kids a few minutes to ask questions."

"Cool," I said. "I'm done anyway."

I closed up the book and put it away, and Wes and I joined everybody else. As we walked out of the office, I noticed Edward casually leaning against the old upright piano. When he caught my eye, he smiled and, I think, blushed. Gunn gave Wes and me a nod of acknowledgment before he started talking.

"Okay, everybody," he began. "I need your attention for about ten minutes."

The kids shuffled around, but settled surprisingly quickly, either on the floor, at the big table, or on the couches and chairs.

"I wanna introduce you all to somebody," Gunn announced once everyone was sitting quietly. "This is Edward Cullen. He's gonna be teaching self defense every Saturday night here at Rosenberg."

There was a quiet murmur over the small group and a wide array of facial expressions, from boredom to enthusiasm to fear. Gunn pursed his lips and eyed the crowd astutely.

"And, just so you know, this is a  _requirement_ , so if you have any concerns, better speak up sooner rather than later."

He spoke to the kids with clarity and authority, but he never talked down to them, and he always gave them time to say their piece. They obviously respected and appreciated that. I could see some of the kids bristle, but they would come around eventually.

"But, right now, I want y'all to give Edward a few minutes to talk. If you have anything to say to me, we'll talk about it right after. Are we clear?"

In his or her own way, everyone agreed to the temporary conditions as Gunn turned to Edward.

"The floor's yours, man."

Edward nodded and took a deep breath before standing and moving more toward the center of the room. His face was alive with emotion, and I felt that flip in my tummy again. I could tell he was so excited to be part of the program, to just  _be_  there—that excitement was written all over his face. It was contagious, for sure, but it was also just so  _sexy_  to see a man be so expressive.

"Hi," Edward said with bright eyes and satisfied half-smile.

The room was starry-eyed and full of sighs. Boys and girls alike were immediately drawn to Edward's presence. Victoria was doing her level best to appear bored—a tactic I was more than familiar with—hoping if she ignored the tingly feeling in her belly it'd go away, because she thought she didn't deserve it anyway. Thinking that if he really wanted her, he'd come to her and she didn't want to make an ass out of herself if he didn't.

But maybe I was projecting.

"Thanks for having me," Edward continued. "I'm looking forward to showing you all some important and effective ways to take care of yourself. And I hope you can teach me some things as well."

Edward talked briefly about the schedule and some goals, and he asked everyone to think about what they wanted to accomplish.

"You don't have to tell me tonight, but I hope on Saturday, we can take about ten or fifteen minutes to talk over what you all want to get out of this."

Edward scanned the group with his eyes. I followed his lead and noticed Andrew front and center, curiously eyeing Edward's full sleeve of ink.

"Anybody have any questions?" Edward asked.

The room was silent for a few beats before Andrew spoke.

"Yeah, what's with the dragon?" he asked, looking like a child, waiting for his bedtime story.

Edward grinned ear-to-ear and looked over at Gunn. Gunn shrugged and nodded. In just the short time since they'd met, they had streamlined their communication to nodding and shrugging. Such a bromance.

"Okay," Edward agreed. "I'll tell you all about the dragon if no one else has any questions about our sessions."

"Anybody else?" Gunn asked, looking expectantly over the small crowd of kids.

A few of them shrugged, and a few of them looked intentionally disinterested, then one of them—the one no one would have expected to speak—finally spoke up.

"I wanna hear about the dragon, too," River said.

Her voice was small but clear, and her eyes were wide with wonder. Everyone in the room stared at her, except Victoria, who was still trying to look bored.

Unless Gunn had told Edward that River hadn't spoken to anyone the entire time she'd been at the shelter, Edward couldn't have known what a big deal it was that she was saying anything at all, let alone engaging with a stranger. But, he handled it beautifully.

Edward smiled warmly, and she looked back at him with that blank stare. He didn't seem at all unsettled by her gaze, the way most of the kids were. I had overheard some of the girls talking about River the week before; the other residents thought the quiet little girl was weird, but they were fascinated with her nonetheless.

"Gunn?" Edward asked using his and Gunn's newly formed cryptic communication.

"By all means," Gunn said with a wave of his hand.

"Okay," Edward said, pulling up his shirtsleeve to fully expose his arm. "Has anyone here heard of Sir Gawain and the Loathly Lady?"

"I have," River answered.

Edward grinned at her again. She maintained her stare, never taking her eyes off of him. Some of us had recovered from the shock of hearing her voice, but we were all still riveted by her and Edward's exchange.

"Well, then, you'll have to let me know if I leave anything out."

River nodded in agreement. She was absolutely stoic and it was sad to me. I hoped that this new development would be the beginning of seeing her open up more and more, letting us support her. After seeing her file, I could imagine why she wouldn't want to rely on people; the people in River's life, who she should have been able to trust, had used her and abused her since a very early age. Edward didn't seem at all fazed by her patented odd behavior, though. Either that or he was determined not to single her out.

"The story of the Loathly Lady is rooted in Celtic tradition," Edward began, twisting his arm to show the inside of his bicep, where an image of a two-faced lady was inked.

I had no idea what the lady had to do with the dragon, but I was looking forward to hearing the rest of the story. And, in all honesty, I just loved watching him show his colorful skin.

"The story begins with a spell that was placed on King Arthur. In order to break the spell, the king had to discover what the one thing was that all women most desired, or he would lose his life."

Andrew's eyes went wide.

"Would he be eaten by a dragon?"

Edward chuckled. "Maybe, but that's not what  _this_  dragon is for. It represents just one of the challenges that King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable had to face. Another challenge was the Loathly Lady."

"Sorry," Andrew mumbled, realizing he had interrupted Edward.

One of the things Andrew's therapist wanted him to work on was not assuming things. Andrew had a tendency to make up whole scenarios in his head before getting all of the facts together, and often he would be far from the truth. It was uncanny how much I could identify with so many of the kids.

But I tried not to make this all about me all the time.

"S'ok," Edward replied with a smile before continuing his story.

"After numerous encounters with various villagers," Edward said, letting his sleeve back down and returning to the piano to have a seat on the bench. "The king was accosted by a hideous woman from the forest who proposed a bargain."

The looks on the kids' faces were priceless. Even River was reacting. It was just a small smile, but Edward was relating to her.

That was the moment when it all came together for me. I had known I needed to get Edward in the shelter to work with the kids. Esme implied that it would be good for him, which I still didn't fully understand, but it was so clear that Edward was a genius at reaching the hard-to-reach kids. I wondered what it was in his background that lent him that skill. I guessed in time I would find out.

"If he promised her a young, fair, and courtly knight," Edward calmly continued the story. "The lady said she would give him the answer that he sought, therefore saving his life."

Some of the kids looked relieved by this revelation. It was beyond adorable to see, even the older kids (and Victoria at that point) so enthralled by the story Edward was telling.

"Sir Gawain, one of the knights of the roundtable, who fought dragons," Edward said, smiling pointedly at Andrew. "Stepped up and sacrificed himself to marry the old hag, and she gave the king the answer: women wish to have their own will."

Edward's smiling eyes scanned the crowd. Even though I hadn't heard the story before, I knew it couldn't be done. Every kid in the group was on the edge of their proverbial seat, because they could tell there was more to the story, too.

"On their wedding night," Edward continued. "The lady suddenly became stunningly beautiful. But then, she told Gawain that he had to choose whether he would have her beautiful by day and ugly by night, or vice versa."

Edward paused again and glanced around at the thoughtful young faces.

"Gawain couldn't choose, though, so he told the lady she could choose for herself, giving her  _her_  will, also known as _sovereynté_."

He lifted the same arm he had exposed before and showed us all the inside of his wrist where the word  _sovereynté_  was tattooed.

"Gawain giving her sovereynté broke the spell of ugliness that bound her, so she was beautiful all the time, and they lived happily ever after."

Several of the girls sighed and a couple of the boys bobbed their heads. Overall, it seemed like the kids thought it was a pretty cool story.

Then Edward looked to River and asked, "How'd I do?"

"Good," she replied with the small smile I hoped would never leave her lips again.

* * *

"Thanks for giving me a ride home," I said.

I was barely able to contain my excitement over the fact that my car wouldn't start. I had stupidly left my lights on when I rushed to get inside as quickly as possible earlier, but that forced Edward to offer me a ride home. So, I was in the passenger seat of Edward's SUV, which was the real cause for excitement. Not because it was an expensive Porsche Cayenne, as would have made me swoon six months before, but because it was  _his_  Porsche Cayenne.

"You're welcome."

He sounded so casual and cool, but he was gripping and wringing the steering wheel like something he wanted to kill by strangulation, like, _immediately_. We rode without talking for a few charged and lip-chewing minutes, and I thought about the way the rest of the evening had progressed.

Edward had stayed for dinner and the charming spell he'd cast over the Rosenberg residents never diminished. By the time he announced he was going to walk me to my car, the kids were thoroughly disappointed by his departure.

Before dinner I had mentioned to Gunn that I wanted to add Saturday to my weekly schedule. He didn't seem surprised, but he also didn't hesitate to make the "I bet you do" remark and brow arch that I had left myself wide open to receive. He said it was no problem and that they could use a little extra crowd control anyway what with the reactions Edward was getting just from his initial introduction.

"Thank you," Edward said, bringing me back to the present. "I'm really looking forward to this gig with the kids."

"Good," I replied with a nervous grin and nod. "I think it'll be great for them, for sure, and Wes and Gunn have been really wanting something more than basketball to occupy their spare time on the weekends."

I was definitely nervous, but I shouldn't have been. Edward was the nicest guy in the world and he wasn't judging me like so many guys before him had, and like I thought he was when we first met. I was nervous about how I felt about him, though, and maybe a little bit high off of that feeling.

"That's cool," he replied, with more wringing of the steering wheel.

If I hadn't been so warm and gooey and flustered I might have laughed at how  _uncool_  he appeared to be. Way less cool than he was trying to make everything sound—he was downright goofy—but I was goofy, too, so it didn't matter.

We headed down the street where I lived above Edward's brother and sister in-law's house and my excitement started to take another turn. My stomach felt like fireflies were doing battle in there instead of rejoicing. I didn't want the night to end. I knew if I got out of that car with the unresolved tension I was feeling, I wouldn't be able to sleep for days.

I suddenly started to babble.

"I'm totally going shopping tomorrow," I said, telling him things I doubted he cared about. "I hate these pants."

"Why do you hate them?" Edward asked, eyeing me sideways in a way that made my tummy do that familiar flip he had a habit of inducing. "I think they look good."

"My thighs look enormous in these pants."

"Your thighs are strong and voluptuous," Edward replied without missing a beat. "They're the thighs of a goddess."

"Yeah, right." I snorted.

Then I remembered how pissed off Edward got the other night on the phone when I mentioned that I'd taken diet pills in the past. I probably shouldn't have gone the "I hate my thighs" route with the babbling, but babbling typically has a mind of its own and doesn't take direction very well.

"You've seen the statue and portraits of Venus, yes?" he asked.

"Of course," I scoffed. "And I think she's chubby."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Edward griped as he pulled into Carlisle and Esme's driveway. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, Edward, I'm not," I replied honestly, because no matter how annoyed he was with my body image concerns, I  _knew_  how I felt. "I think she could stand to lose a few pounds."

He muttered something unfamiliar then paused and took a deep breath. I blinked and my mind raced because he had said something—a word—that I didn't recognize. It sounded something like  _sheen_. I had no idea if he was swearing in a different language or what. It would be so fitting with Edward and my track record if I annoyed him so much he started involuntarily swearing in multiple languages.

"Venus is literally the embodiment of beauty and love," Edward explained patiently. "I cannot possibly be telling you something you don't know, so what is the fucking deal?"

"Whatever," I replied. "Don't tell I'm the first person to say she looks fat."

He clenched his jaw. "I suppose you think Marilyn Monroe was fat, too."

"Most of the time she was fine, but in  _Some Like It Hot_? Even you have to admit she was a little bloated," I argued my point. "During her solo number you could totally see her belly sticking out. You're going to sit there and tell me that you think a woman with a potbelly looks hot? Seriously?"

Edward looked directly at me then, and I felt my skin get warm all over. I wouldn't back down from my stance, but the way he was looking at me…

"Do you hate all women or just yourself?"

Wow.

"I don't hate myself, Edward, I just hate my thighs," I answered with a teasing smile and a batting of my lashes, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm not blind or crazy, either. I know there're women out there who look sexy with curves; I'm just not one of them."

I knew had a slim build under all the extra baggage I carried around. When I looked at my thighs I could see how they  _should_  be. I strived to get there through lots and lots diets and exercise, then after years of starving myself, I decided to try to be healthy, but that didn't stop me from wishing my thighs were thinner.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm being safe," I assured him. "I'm not running fifty miles a day, or binging and purging, and I'm not getting plastic surgery… yet."

Edward arched a brow in my direction, skepticism twisting his features.

"Although…" I continued with a mischievous smirk. "If I get that warbly thing under my chin like my mom has, I'll be under the knife in a heartbeat."

"Ugh," Edward responded with a disdainful eye roll. "Okay, okay, I promised you I wouldn't Dr. Phil you, and I know you're gonna keep doing this self-deprecating thing no matter what I say, but don't expect me not to argue on occasion."

"Oh, come on, now," I joked, playfully nudging his leg. "What about sovereynté?"

He rolled his eyes again. "That's not the same, and you know it," he said, turning off the engine and opening his car door.

"Are you going in to see Carlisle and Esme?" I asked dumbly, opening my own door and exiting the car.

"No," he replied. "I'm walking you to your door."

I hadn't had a guy walk me to my door since I was in middle school. But I knew Edward wasn't after the same thing that football player had been.

We quietly climbed my stairs and came to a stop just outside my door.

"Well, thanks again for the ride," I said. "I guess I'll see you Saturday?"

"Are you working on Saturday now?" Edward asked, looking adorably confused.

"Yeah," I answered, and I knew I was blushing. "I picked up an extra shift."

"Nice," Edward smirked.

I was busted. He had to know that I added the shift just for him. That smirk told me he was in cocky mode, but then he bit his lip and stared at my mouth.

I fantasized about him kissing me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind was a memory of my first kiss, which was nowhere near as thrilling as the feeling I got from Edward.

My first kiss was actually a series of three kisses and it was all about proving something. Even at seven-years-old, I used sex as a way to allegedly prove my worth. I thought if I let all three of those boys kiss me, that they would all fall in love with me, and I would be worshipped by all for my goddess-like prowess.

"Well," Edward said, his voice hoarse and faint, dragging me from the reminiscence of my lost youth. "Sleep tight."

"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks. You too."

Edward's face softened as we made eye contact, and he smiled and fisted his hands in his pockets before he turned to make his way down the stairs. When I heard him start his car I walked inside my apartment alone.

I went through my nightly routine of washing my face, changing into my pajamas, and brewing some Chamomile. Once I was nestled in bed with Jimbo and my cup of tea, I checked my email on my phone. I had a message from Edward.

Before I opened it, I had a brief moment of panic, worried that he had picked up on my intense attraction to him or that he could read minds and he heard what I was thinking about him kissing me. I was terrified that his email would say something like "Dear Rose, Please stop stalking me. Thanks."

I bit the bullet, though, because nobody could read minds, and Edward and I had been harmlessly flirting for a week over the phone. What I had done and thought recently was no different than any of that. We were just friends, regardless, and I was just enjoying the fun of getting to know him and our easy camaraderie.

As I opened the message, I found myself wishing that the note were in his actual handwriting, so I could get acquainted with the sway of his penmanship. But, then, I could almost hear his voice as I read, and that lulled me into a state of near bliss.

_Rose,_

_In the car tonight, I used a word—a name—to address you. It really just slipped out, so I apologize for any confusion if you heard it. But I wanted to tell you what I said, and what it means, and why I can't seem to get it out of my head every time we connect._

_The name is Róisín (pronounced Ro-sheen), which is "Rose" in Gaelic. Obviously, your name is Rose, but there's more. "Róisín Dubh" (Dark Rose) was originally a love-lyric written in the 16_ _th_ _century, which referred to the poet's beloved, but later, it served as a metaphor for Ireland._

_Basically, the song is about triumph and beauty over adversity. Whenever we talk, I can't help thinking of the song, and I want that for you. You're a strong, beautiful woman, and you deserve to rise above anything holding you down. I see it in you every new meeting we have, and I hear it in your voice when we talk._

_I can't wait to see the rest unfold._

_So, if I slip up again sometime and call you Róisín, don't be too aggravated?_

_Edward_

I had to read the email three times before I could believe what I was reading. Edward wasn't teasing me in the email—it was an intimate confession. While our friendship had certainly grown over the past few weeks, I hadn't expected this big of a step. The nickname, the email, the sentiments held within were all part of a  _really_  big step. Yet, I had to remind myself that we were  _just friends_  and that Edward had this affect on everyone, like Gunn and even River.

I Googled Róisín Dubh as soon as I could think straight and I read the lyrics as many times as I'd read Edward's note. It was a love song, for sure, but it was also, like Edward had said, a song about triumph over adversity.

No matter what his specific intentions were with me, I was honored that he would think of me as Róisín Dubh. I was honored by the meaning of the lyric and the simple fact that Edward thought of me as a woman, as triumphant, as beautiful, without even so much as kissing me.

I would  _never_  be aggravated by him calling me Róisín.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can go here to read the poem Róisín Dubh: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R%C3%B3is%C3%ADn_Dubh_(song)
> 
> Thanks to Einfach_Mich for the Legend of the Loathly Lady, the pre-read, and for pushing Rose to get real about her body. Thanks also to TheHeartofLife for the pre-read and pulling those emotions out of Rose. Thank you, MsKathy, for everything.


	8. Cookies and Kitchen Sinks

"I thought I was going to marry Royce," I confessed, as I lay flat on my back in the middle of my bed, wearing nothing but one of Emmett's old t-shirts and a pair of underwear.

Edward and I were on the phone again. It was Saturday night and his first self defense class with the kids had gone off unbelievably well. River was the superstar martial artist. It was an interesting balance that she was so physically gifted when she refused to speak most of the time. Victoria, on the other hand, sat on the couch beside me, filing her nails and obnoxiously snapping her gum. Gunn told Victoria she would have to participate the next week, so she had "better make sure that manicure is good and ready for the workout."

I had ridden to and from the shelter with Edward, since my car was still in the shop. After a similar parting as Thursday night, wherein I wished to God that Edward would kiss me and he remained my gentlemanly, platonic friend, my phone rang 20 minutes after I walked in the door.

When I answered the call, Edward claimed that he had forgotten what time he and Gunn had scheduled to go to the gym together the next day. It was pretty fishy (and adorable) to me that even though he had Gunn's number, he didn't feel he knew him well enough to call him so late, so he called me instead.

"Did you  _want_  to marry him?"

In just the few short weeks we'd known each other—Five? Six?—Edward had proven himself to be more than the judgmental pretty-boy I originally thought he was; and I think I'd proven myself to him as well. I had learned that Edward would never ask me a question or engage in any way with me that wasn't completely genuine and deliberate.

"In hindsight, no," I replied, rolling to my side to bump into a sleeping heap of Jimbo. "But at the time I thought it was right, and I thought he loved me."

I could hear the wistfulness in my voice. Six weeks ago I would've mentally berated myself for being pathetic with my feelings, but I pushed away the thought that there was anything wrong with being thoughtful and careful about the death of my ex. Hell, I was still confused by our former life together; I had every right to sound wistful, dammit!

"I'm gonna ask you another question," Edward said. "And I swear I'm not trying to push, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Shoot."

"Did you love him?"

I thought about that long and hard. It wasn't like I was the first person to ever question, "what is love" and "am I in it?", and none of the zillions of people before me could ever come up with a decent answer, either.

"I don't know," I answered.

It sucked to say it out loud. It sucked to think that I could never  _really_  know if I had loved Royce. I knew I loved Riley, Alice, and Emmett, because they were part of my life and always would be; but when I was in the depths of what I thought was  _forever_ , something usually derailed all rational thought for me.

What really bothered me about my hesitation to answer, though, was that after all was said and done, when I was really  _real_ with myself, I knew that I didn't love Royce. I never loved him, and I always fucking knew it, but I had kept on pretending to love him, and us, and make it fucking work, because I thought it was the right time or place or circumstance, or  _whateverthefuck_.

"No," I whispered, choosing to come clean and say it all out loud to my friend who trusted me to answer him honestly. "I didn't love him, but I wanted to."

"You wanted to… what?" Edward prompted.

Sometimes I thought maybe Edward's joking observations were right, that I should be the video game designer and he should be the Psych major. He was so good at urging me to spill my guts and listening—kind of a pain in the ass, really. He and Dr. Inara would probably be a nightmare together with their poking and prodding and making people be forthcoming and shit.

"God, remind me why I'm telling you all this again…?" I laughed, because Edward wasn't really a pain in the ass; he was awesome and a good friend.

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "We're just talking. We can talk about something else."

We were just talking, yet, Edward and I ended up "just talking" about a lot of things I never talked about with anyone else. At least when we talked, I was more honest than I was with most anyone else.

"I know, I know." I groaned as I rolled completely off the bed and onto my feet, then headed to the kitchen for a glass of wine.

"I wanted to believe in the fairytales and romance novels," I said as I pulled a glass from the rack and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge. "You remember, we talked about this—and I wanted to think that Royce would swoop in at that perfect moment with his law degree and good looks, and I'd be his perfect housewife-"

"And you'd live happily ever after?" Edward was wistful, then.

I wondered if he was thinking about his own lost love. It hit me straight in the solar plexus that I hadn't asked a lot of questions about Siobhan. Part of me believed that I was trying to respect his boundaries, but the fact was that I was avoiding it, and the thought that I may be starting a similar pattern of avoidance with Edward as I had forged with Riley, Alice, and Emmett gave my belly a flip that was much less pleasant than the one Edward usually induced.

"Yeah," I answered, standing still with a cold bottle of wine perched over the open mouth of my glass.

I had been a bad friend to good people and was trying to make amends, yet there I was falling back into old habits with one of the best people I knew. I still wanted to be a good friend, though; it wasn't too late.

"I would've been the best wife ever," I said and began to pour my wine, thinking about ways to engage Edward without being heavy-handed and just blurting out,  _what really happened with your ex?_

"I'm sure you would," he said.

I smiled so wide I felt it all over my face, warm and promising. Our conversations were so easy. I really didn't want to take a huge detour just to steer us in a direction he may not have been ready to take, but I hoped I would have the opportunity to return the feeling of comfort to Edward that he consistently gave to me.

"And I wanted kids," I said, turning toward my couch. It was true that I wanted kids, and I knew kids were a topic that Edward seemed to enjoy.

"Wanted?" he asked.

"Well,  _want_ , I guess."

" _Do_  you want kids? Now?"

"Well, not right this second, but, yeah."

I took a sip from my glass and listened to Edward breathe on the other end of the line. He was thinking quietly, and I simply reveled in our camaraderie and basked in the comfort he lent to me just by listening to me think out loud. I hoped he would return that sentiment now that the topic wasn't firmly placed on me. It was rare to find myself in a sharing deep thoughts situation with someone. Well, there was that one time when Emmett and I split a bag of mushrooms and we bantered for hours about the meaning of life, but that was different.

"The first time Siobhan OD'd she was pregnant," Edward said.

My skin went cold. I slowly sat up and set my glass of wine on the coffee table in front of me. I was shocked speechless. Edward's voice was quiet and pensive. He sounded terribly, terribly sad.

"Edward," I breathed. "I—I don't even know what to say."

I cleared my throat. My opportunity to return his favors had risen, but I found that I didn't have the pretty words Edward always had. I wished I were with him so I could touch him, hug him, somehow use a gentle hand. I was always better with my hands than with words.

He felt so far away from me right then. Those thoughts made me realize Edward and I hadn't really touched at all yet, which stirred a lot of other emotions in me, but the predominant emotion that I was having was the desire to care for him and give him solace.

"You don't have to say anything," Edward replied.

I could hear that small, half-smile I was so used to seeing on him—the one that was sometimes a smirk and sometimes shy. I could imagine right then, it was sweet and humble, bare with honesty.

"You've shared a lot with me," he said. "And I like sharing with you."

I could barely contain a smile myself, which seemed somewhat inappropriate, because my smile wasn't humble or shy; it was giddy and gushy, yet I couldn't bring myself to care. Still, I wanted him to feel better; I didn't want him to be sad.

"She miscarried," Edward said. "I didn't even know I wanted kids until that happened, to be honest."

"Are you still…" I said, wanting to ask if he still wanted kids or if that experience had scarred him for life. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding okay, but not happy. "I mean, I know I can move on now, and I  _want_  to move on."

I tried not to read too much into that comment and to just listen like he always listened to me, without bias, with compassion and understanding.

"It was hard after that first overdose," he continued. "Because I wanted to believe she'd get better, but I was also so fucking pissed at her for doing something so harmful when she knew she was pregnant, ya know?"

"Of course!" I replied. "Oh, my God."

I was totally rallying behind him, ready to beat a stranger's ass for hurting him so deeply. At the same time, though, I thought about what it must have been like to be her. The clinical side of my brain constructed a textbook reality of an addict who couldn't rationalize what was healthy for her or anyone else, not even her unborn child.

I was simultaneously trying to reel in my inherited  _fantastical_  imagination from creating another kind of inflated story in my head before he could tell me what really happened. Little did I know that what he was about to tell me was more devastating than even Lillian Hale's daughter could dream up.

"But,  _I_  didn't know, which… I mean, what's worse, right? I didn't even know I'd knocked up my girlfriend."

"Wait—so you didn't know she was pregnant until after...?"

I could not believe what I was hearing. Either she neglected to tell him, or even  _she_  didn't know. Either way, Edward found out that his girlfriend had OD'd the same moment he found out he could have been a father.

"No," Edward answered. "I didn't."

He sounded angry, and I didn't blame him, but I remained neutral with an open ear.

"But after that," Edward said. "After the first time, I moved her in with me to try and give her more support, because she swore we'd make it work and she'd quit and we'd try again."

"You mean she wanted to try and get pregnant again?"

The shock just kept coming. From what I knew of addicts, that was the last thing that should have been on her mind, but when you love someone, as I am certain Siobhan loved Edward, you will do whatever it takes to keep him. I knew that from personal experience.

"Yeah," he said. "Which, I wasn't exactly fired up about. The whole situation was a big What The Fuck for me; learning she had such a serious problem, realizing I wanted to be a father, and mourning the loss of a child… I've always known I'd have a family some day, but I hadn't thought that far with Siobhan, especially after she'd been so careless the first time."

He was still so angry with her, I could tell, but he had at least moved past trying to fix things for her and with her. I was proud of him for making that step and being confident in it. We were in such similar places, he and I.

"Man, that is  _fucked up_."

"Yes," he agreed. "Very."

Then we were both laughing. Not hysterically, but in acknowledgment of the absurdity that both of us had endured such intensely heartbreaking experiences. It was a relief, though, to be able to openly share them with another person who didn't just listen and sympathize, but someone who could relate.

"So, do  _you_  want kids?" I asked.

"I definitely want kids," Edward said without hesitation. "I love teaching and learning."

His voice kind of trailed off, dreamily, for a moment, but then he came back.

"That's why I love this gig at the shelter," he said, sounding suddenly rejuvenated. "I can't thank you enough."

"Well, we're beyond lucky to have you," I said, feeling that familiar warmth that Edward provoked so easily, spread over my face and neck. "And the kids adore you, you know that, right?"

"You're sweet," he said.

"Yeah," I snorted. "I'm such a sweetie!"

"I know you like to pretend you're all tough," he said. "But you're not. Deep down, you're a very sweet girl."

My mind turned to Victoria, the young, innocent girl, who pretended to be tough and unaffected, who never wanted to let on what she was really feeling, for fear that someone would take advantage of her  _again_.

I had reprimanded myself for projecting onto Victoria, but it was true that I had been taken advantage of and disappointed. I related to her. I'd opened myself up time and time again with the hope that someone would love me, frantic that they wouldn't. I wanted someone to whisk me away  _rightnow_  all the time, like I couldn't possibly wait for it to happen naturally.

"Sweet," I repeated with a light scoff and shake of my head.

I hadn't been sweet and innocent since I was a small child. Even then, one could argue that I was not the purest of little girls. But Edward saying he thought I was sweet and believing it, made me wish I really were.

Edward let out an exasperated sigh.

"Róisín…"

I shivered in delight at the sound of him using my new nickname.

"I'm not going to ask you to change who you are," he continued. "But will you try to change the way you talk about yourself? For me?"

I loved the name and I loved that he was asking me to do something for him.

"Okay," I agreed.

It wasn't hard for me to agree to such a pure and simple request. Everything was so simple with Edward.

When I had replied to Edward's email on Friday morning, I told him I was honored that he wanted to give me such an important name, and I confided in him the  _entire_ story of Royce and me.

In the same way I had once thought it was time for me to marry Royce (or anyone who would have me), it was really time for me to stand up and take care of myself. I always had it in me; it just took that little blip for me to reset my sights on what was important and real in my world.

Still, after all that introspection, Edward's simple request to be good to myself gave me pause. It became apparent that I was  _still_  talking about myself like I was that dumb, fat loser I always feared I was, even though I thought I was making so much progress.

"I'm afraid of being too soft," I said quietly. "Inside and out."

I hoped he knew what I meant, because that was a leap I wasn't planning to take, and I wasn't sure I could explain myself.

"Don't be afraid of it," he said. His voice was quiet over the phone line, but,  _God_ , I could almost feel him right next to me; his breath on my skin and his hand in mine. "You can be soft and fierce at the same time."

I suppressed a sigh, wanting... wanting  _so_  much to be near him right then. I wanted to keep my guard down and climb into his lap and ask him to hold onto me.

"Yeah," I answered. "But then I'm afraid to look stupid."

My biggest fear was that someone—anyone—would think I was stupid or a failure, that I'd dropped the ball. I never wanted to be a disappointment. Edward seemed to think the dichotomy—soft and hard, silly and serious—was sweet and charming. I didn't understand it, but I didn't have to, because it made me feel better, pure and simple.

"You could never," Edward said with the grin in his voice that wasn't the half-smile, but the one that made me feel safe and warm. "You rail at the injustice in the world, but you aren't dumb. That cat of yours is proof."

I looked down at Jimbo and his one eye and suddenly remembered the fight I'd had with Royce the night I found him.

Royce didn't want him at all. At the time, I glossed over that fight and convinced myself that he had wanted Jimbo as much as I did, that he wanted to take care of him and raise him with me, that he was just being cautious. Since his death and my rebirth, I fully acknowledged that if I hadn't fought for it, Royce would have left Jimbo to die.

"You're saying that taking in strays is a smart thing to do?" I teased.

"Absolutely," Edward chuckled. "And candy from strangers, always."

I snorted again. I was so ungraceful around him. I would give my favorite Louis Vuitton to kiss him, but I wasn't putting up pretenses to do it. I was done with lies and superficial relationships.

"What's your favorite cookie?" I asked.

"What?" Edward responded, chuckling and obviously confused.

I could almost see him in his pajamas, burrowed into a pillow. I imagined he wore long cotton pants and no shirt, and I doubted he'd wear shoes in the house. Maybe he'd just taken a shower, so his closely cropped hair was just barely damp, but enough to feel cool to the touch.

"I wanna bake you something," I clarified. "What's your favorite?"

I hadn't baked in years. Mom and I used to bake all the time, especially when Dad was out of town. Mom always said it was nice to have something fresh baked and sweet for him to come home to.

"My mom makes these oatmeal cookies with chocolate and butterscotch chips and coconut," Edward said. "I don't know what they're called, but they're awesome."

They  _sounded_ awesome.  _He_ sounded awesome, telling me about his mom and his favorite cookies.

"Mmm," I replied.

"But I like just about any cookie, to be honest."

"You're easy," I teased.

"When it comes to dessert, I'm very easy."

We finished our call with a little more flirting and me promising Edward that I would bring him cookies the next day.

"What're you gonna make me?" he asked, coy and playful.

"I'm gonna surprise you," I answered. "Do you like surprises?"

"Yeah."

His voice was low and raspy, just like it was the first night he drove me home when I wanted so much for him to kiss me. I thought maybe he wanted the same things I wanted; and I didn't think I wasn't making any of it up in my head that time, either, because what I wanted was just to be close to him. And he wasn't pushing me away.

**~DL~**

Sunday morning I went to the grocery store for baking supplies. I had decided on a chocolate chip and pecan recipe that I'd found online. When I also found an irresistible looking chocolate pecan pie recipe, I had to try it out for Carlisle and Esme. As out of practice as I was with anything domestic, I spent the entire morning preparing and baking.

My mind kept swirling around all that had evolved between Edward and I. We had started as strangers with a few things in common: hangovers and Carlisle and Esme. Then there was a brief era of hostility before we both chose to tentatively let down our guards and give each other, and ourselves, a chance. Finally, we had arrived at a place that was yet to be defined, but decidedly neither hostile nor strange.

The lack of definition didn't give me as much anxiety and stress as that kind of thing normally would have. I usually hated not knowing what to expect and tried to drive it in one direction or another, but with Edward it was the thrill of the ride that I enjoyed most. Everything about him did things to me that I wasn't used to, and the fact that he didn't freak me out made me feel pretty cool that I was growing as a person.

Once the pie was done baking and I'd set it aside to cool, I packaged up Edward's cookies and sent him a text, asking if I could bring him what I'd baked.

 _Yes, please,_  was his quick response.

I grinned like a little girl, and delighted in the flutter in my belly as I quickly showered then dried my hair. My breath felt lighter as I slipped into my oldest pair of jeans and clogs and pulled a soft cotton t-shirt over my head.

I snatched the Rubbermaid container full of sweet-tooth tempting delights, stowed them in my backpack, and trotted down my stairs to where my bike was parked. Edward only lived about five blocks from us, but I didn't want to take the time to walk, making him wait longer than he already had.

It took me just a few minutes to get there. When I arrived in his driveway, I was stopped in my tracks. He was sitting out on a side balcony, aviators perched on his perfectly imperfect nose, big, warm hand, gripping a mug of something steaming. He had a newspaper sprawled in his lap, and his bare feet (I was right!) were propped up on the railing of the balcony. He was wearing gray cotton pants and a white wife-beater.

I took in the scenery and shook my thoughts loose from the tight set of values I would generally focus on with everyone else but Edward: well-kept Cape Cod in a nice neighborhood, Porsche in the garage, gorgeous, talented man on the side balcony. Instead, I re-focused on what was important: Edward was waiting for  _me_.

"Hey there," I called up to him once I found my voice.

Edward turned his head to look at me then immediately split his pretty face with a familiar and blinding smile.

"Hey!" he answered, swinging his legs around to stand. "Front door's open. I'll meet you there."

I strode toward the entrance to his house and tested the lever. The door opened with a soft  _swoosh_  and I walked inside. The entryway was bright and inviting—light oak floors, Jute runner toward the staircase, and an arrangement of orchids on a white, antique-looking foyer table to the right. I peeked around the narrow table through the wide entrance of the living room and smiled.

Edward's house looked so much like my mom's family home where she grew up and we'd spent Christmases that defined my childhood. While Edward's design style was slightly more modern and definitely more masculine, I felt so at home and relaxed that I hadn't even heard him descend the old, creaky stairs.

"You smell good," he said.

I was startled, but recovered quickly and matched his warm smile.

"It's the cookies," I said with a shrug, pulling my backpack from my shoulders and bending to set it on the floor.

"Cookies smell like girl, now?" Edward teased, rocking back and forth on his bare feet. "What kinda cookies are these?"

His feet were nice, and that was a lot for me to process. I always thought feet were kind of gross. Unless a girl had a nice pedicure, I thought all feet should be concealed. I was beginning to change my mind about that.

"Chocolate chip pecan," I answered, then stood to hand him the container.

Edward's eyes glazed over as he stared at the box of cookies. I made a mental note to take a baking class so I could get that look from him more often.

"Want some?" I asked, shimmying the little, plastic container in my hand to rattle the cookies inside.

Edward's eyes returned to mine and refocused. He smirked, not shy, but mischievous. That was the smirk that made my stomach drop and flip.

"I do," he replied, reaching for the cookies and never taking his eyes away from mine.

His fingers brushed mine, but it didn't feel like a put on; it felt like our hands had made their own decision to touch each other. Like they had missed each other, even though they'd never met in this life.

Edward turned toward a hallway under the staircase. I followed him and we passed an office, a small bathroom, and a pantry, then arrived at the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Edward asked over his shoulder then shoved a cookie in his mouth.

At some point he had opened the Rubbermaid without me noticing. I watched as tiny cookie crumbles sprinkled over the thin, white cotton that covered his chest. I reached out and brushed my hand across him, feeling what I'd always known I would, since the moment I saw him shirtless, washing Esme's car.

I looked up at him as my hand reluctantly returned to my side. Edward could have been wearing his cocky smirk, but he wasn't. He was slowly chewing the remainder of his cookie with the small, thoughtful smile playing on his lips and in his eyes.

"I'll take a cup of coffee, sure," I answered with a croak.

I sounded like I'd swallowed a bug. I kind of felt like a bug, actually. Like a bug under a microscope the way Edward was staring at me.

"Okay," Edward said with finality, swiping his lips with two fingers then dusting his hands on the sides of cotton pants. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

I felt my face do that wide-eyed, mouth in the shape of an "O" expression. I imagined I looked like a cartoon character or an emoticon.

"I like you," he said, his body drawing closer to mine. "And, when I say I like you, I mean that I like you in the way that I said I didn't."

He came to a stop in front of me with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. It was the cutest combination of frustration and surrender. He pursed his lips and studied me curiously; head tilt and all.

I wasn't sure how to respond, because I'd been telling myself for so long that I wasn't going to make shit up in my head, yet I had allowed myself to make up a reality where Edward didn't want me, that we were just friends and he was just being nice, when really he  _did_  want me.

"Now…" Edward took another step closer to me and hung his hands loosely at his sides. "I really wanna kiss you, but if you don't want that-"

"Oh, I want it," I said, finally finding some way to respond and cutting him off.

I sounded like a taunting seven-year-old on the playground. It was the Edward Effect. He made me feel like years and experiences had been peeled away while, at the same time, I wanted to show him what years of experience and lessons learned could do for both of us.

"Good," he said.

We stood and stared at each other for a full three seconds before we each reached for the other. There was a moment of awkward fumbling then Edward grabbed both of my upper arms and spun us around. He pressed me up against his kitchen counter, and when our lips finally met… it was all good. Very, very good.

It was warm and sweet like fresh baked cookies. His lips were soft but determined and skilled against mine, and I let him lead the way. My body knew how to follow; my lips and tongue fell right in line with his.

His fingers buried deep in my hair, wound through the strands, and his hand palmed the back of my head so full, deep, and firm. His other hand braced beside me on the edge of his counter, gripping it tightly. I thought of the steering wheel and how white knuckled and intense he had been. That image, coupled with the feeling of him so close and warm and all around me, made me melt.

Edward shifted his weight, bringing his body closer to mine. I had a fist full of cotton undershirt while my other hand curved around the back of his neck and tickled and teased the soft, buzzed hair with my fingertips. He was warm and so hard against me. I knew if my legs gave out the way they felt like they might, I would still be standing, though, because he had me pinned there between his body and the kitchen sink.

Edward broke the kiss with a gentle and lingering pull on my bottom lip. He settled his forehead against mine, and his hand slipped from my head to my shoulder. We both breathed heavily through our smiles.

"As awesome as that was, I hope you're not about to tell me that's all I get," I said with a desperate half-laugh.

Edward answered my laugh with one that was equally anxious then threaded his hand back through my hair to tilt my head and kiss my temple, then my nose, then the corner of my mouth.

"No," Edward replied, his voice close to my ear where he pulled the lobe between his teeth. "I'll give you a lot more than that."

I shivered at the feeling of his teeth against my skin and the thought of him giving me more.

"But I'm gonna take you to dinner first," Edward answered before slowly, but completely releasing me and stepping back, one step at a time, leaving me to feel like slouching to the floor like a slug.

"Dinner?"

I was confused. It was only 1 p.m.

"Tonight," Edward said, eyeing me with amusement and readjusting my t-shirt. "I'm taking you to dinner then bringing you home with me."

"I'm not gonna argue with that plan," I said.

All the things we'd both been through, all the heartache and betrayal, and how emotionally  _crippled_  we both should have been didn't even enter my mind. Well, it did, but I decided to stick my tongue out at all of it and say, "Neener-neener-neener! I'm gettin' some tonight and you're not, bitches!"

"Are we ready for this?" I asked, mocking seriousness.

"I know I am."

He backed up to his oven, arms crossed over his chest. He settled there, crossing ankle over ankle and looking satisfied and completely  _casualcomfortable_ , like an underwear model, only less muscle-y and vein-y. Also, the front of his pants was tented enough to boost my self esteem for at least the rest of the afternoon.

"Well, okay then," I said. "Me too."

I felt like laughing—it was bubbling up inside me—but I needed to get home to tweeze and inspect and  _oh, my God_ , Edward was going to see me naked!

"I have to go," I said suddenly, and Edward looked even more amused.

"Well, okay then," he repeated my previous phrase. "I'll walk you to the door."

We nodded a few times, looking around awkwardly, shuffling our feet, before I finally foisted myself upright to walk back to his foyer. Edward followed me and I felt like he was almost on my heels.

I didn't stop to say goodbye, because I didn't want the feeling to fade. I just called over my shoulder after pulling his door open and walking through that he should call me later and tell me when he was picking me up.

I did turn to look at his door as I rode away on my bike, though, and he was leaning against one upraised arm in the doorway, chewing on his thumb.

He was just as excited as I was.


	9. Crab Legs and Couches

I rode my bike home like a bat out of Hell, which was kind of pointless, because the sooner I got home, the longer I'd have to wait for Edward's call to tell me when he was going to pick me up for dinner.

When I walked through the door, I stepped in a furball barf mess of Jimbo's. I decided not to be pissed about how gross it was because scooping it up, getting the spot cleaner out, and cleaning up the grossness burned a good ten minutes that I didn't have to spend obsessing over Edward's erection and hard chest, or the fact that I didn't have anything clean that didn't cut off my circulation. Then I got all excited because I could waste another 75 minutes or so doing laundry.

I sorted through my crappy clothes, both clean and dirty, and decided to wear my other pair of super old jeans and the dark pink, sheer peasant top with split sleeves I had bought online the week before. I had started buying clothes recently to replace a lot of what I had because I was sick of everything I put on reminding me of some smart-ass, degrading comment Royce had made about my fuckable tits or fat ass.

I scooped up all my dirty clothes and took them to the little SlimTwin stacked washer in my hall closet. Once I'd started a load of colors, including my favorite jeans, I went back into my bedroom to freshen up my top with the steamer.

Jimbo came in my room and winked his eye at me then sat down and started licking himself. I laughed as I left my top hanging over my freestanding mirror and Jimbo languishing in privacy, while I made myself a half sandwich and called my mom.

She had called or texted me every other day since Royce's death, offering to come visit, asking if I wanted to come home, suggesting that I take time off from school, all in an effort to get me talking. I assumed she was hoping I would dramatize the event even further.

"Hey," I greeted my mom with a mouth full of bread and cheese. "What's goin' on?"

"Well, hi…" she said, sounding kind of bitchy-pleased, like, "Well, it's about time, Rose. I've been calling you for  _weeks_. I cannot believe you finally deigned to call your mother."

I rolled my eyes and soldiered on.

"What's new?" I asked. "How's Daddy?"

"Ohh…" she started with a sigh. "He's out with Graham right now—you remember Graham Miller, don't you? That young Marine from down the street?—anyway, they went to the Lowe's to get some  _plumbing_  something or other…"

She sounded like the situation was sucking her will to live. If I hadn't just had Edward's tongue in my mouth 45 minutes before, I might have been pulled into her black hole of plumbing woe, but instead, I found myself cramming the rest of my sandwich into my face to stifle a chuckle.

"Oh, Rose…" she sighed again. "There's always  _something_  going on, isn't there? The  _stool_  in my downstairs bathroom quit working. Can you imagine? I mean first Royce and then—did I tell you about Maggie Walsh?"

She hadn't told me about Maggie Walsh. I didn't even recall, nor did I care to recall, who Maggie Walsh was.

"No," I said. "What happened?"

I busied myself with tidying up, laundry, and listening to my mom babble for another hour about inane shit. She centered the entire conversation, if one could call what transpired between us a conversation, around tragedy—her downstairs toilet repair needs, Royce's death, and her neighbor Maggie Walsh, being exposed for drug trafficking.

"Okay," I said. "Well, I gotta go, Mom."

I didn't really have to go, because it was only three-thirty, and no one eats dinner at three-thirty, but my mom was slowly harshing my Edward-buzz.

"Okaaaay…" she said. "Well… call me sometime."

"I will," I said. "I love you. And I'll talk to you soon."

"I love you too, babe," she replied.

"And tell Daddy I love him, too," I said before we said goodbye a million more times and finally hung up.

I tossed my phone onto the couch cushions and grabbed the rest of my laundry from the dryer to fold. I hoped Edward would consider an early dinner—like, say, four or four-thirty—but I had a feeling he'd stick to regular time. Dammit.

At six o'clock, I considered calling or texting him, because I was already showered, shorn, lathered with fragranced moisturizer, and dressed. I had even taken time to blow my hair all straight and shiny. Just as I was about to climb the wall with impatience, my phone started playing Just The Way You Are, and I jumped up to answer Edward's call.

"Hello?" I said, desperate and out of breath from moving quickly and wanting it to be dinner time.

"Hungry?" he asked in lieu of an actual greeting, not that I minded.

His voice sounded like a mischievous hum from a big cat. It made me shiver in the best possible way. I liked that he wasn't always in predatory, flirty mode with me, though. Our relationship had layers and facets that weren't always sexual.

That said, him asking if I was hungry? Definitely sexual.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

"Good," he answered. "I'll be there in ten minutes. We're going to a steak house, so nothing too fancy, k?"

There was a brief moment where I panicked because the last time I went to a steak house with Royce, I couldn't find one suitable thing on the menu. Then I remembered that I liked steak houses—a lot—and that I could eat whatever I wanted in front of Edward and he wouldn't have a care in the world about it.

"K," I said with a small smile.

I hadn't even asked where he was taking me before I'd gotten ready. I was glad that he hadn't planned anything too elaborate, because the developments and emotions between us were kind of complex, so we didn't need a lot of extra frill and noise to muck up the evening.

True to his word, he was walking up my steps ten minutes later. Before he could knock, I flung the door open and greeted him, breathless again. Or still. I didn't even know anymore.

"Hi there," he said with an amused expression on his clean-shaven face.

He looked me up and down then donned a roguish grin that matched his tone of voice when he'd asked me if I was hungry. I wasn't sure I'd make it through dinner with that grin. I wasn't sure I'd make it out my door with that grin.

"Hi," I responded, almost bubbling with excitement.

We had been holding this attraction at bay for a month, slowly feeding and nurturing it with all the things I'd never used before to sustain such a thing. I'd never used my skills of verbal communication, or even email, to express myself outside of work or class before. I was used to physically acknowledging that I wanted to fuck someone who also wanted to fuck me, then going for it. No sharing stories or talking about things that mattered as preamble.

But I decided I  _would_  make it out of the house and all the way through dinner. If only just to hear his voice and see him smile like that a little longer… and to sit across the table from him in that black button-down and his  _perfect_  fucking jeans.

"Shall we?" Edward asked, pivoting on his heel and offering me his elbow.

"Yes," I said, leaning toward the small stand next to my door that held my keys, loose change, wallet, and cell phone.

I grabbed my phone and wallet, but left my keys, since I only needed my house key and had a spare under one of those fake rock things at the bottom of the stairs. He had rolled his cuffs up, so his pretty tattoos were proudly on display. When I linked arms with him, the split in my sleeve fell away and we were skin on skin, color against color, and we made our way down the stairs to his car.

**~DL~**

The server uncorked and poured a sample of Pinot Noir for me to taste. Edward had asked me to pick, because I was in the mood for red wine and he didn't know anything about red wine except that he liked to drink it. The irony that I was on a date with someone who was not only not dominating every aspect of the evening with his preferences, but asking me to choose the frickin' wine did not escape me.

"That's great," I said after tasting the sample.

I smiled up at the server and she poured the rest of my glass, then Edward's.

"Thanks," Edward said.

She set the bottle off to the side and left us alone. I was nervous, but I loved the way Edward made me feel—anxious without feeling too self-conscious, giddy and light. He broke the silence to tell me about the first time he got drunk off red wine.

"It was Carlisle and Esme's wedding," he said, spinning his glass and watching the ruby liquid swirl inside. "I had to break up a fight and realized, when I almost fell over with the drunken idiot who started it, that I wasn't at my most coordinated."

Edward chuckled and shook his head at the memory.

"I'd never been wine-drunk before, so I was just like…" He flailed around and made a ridiculous face, and I laughed.

His voice and the orange and gold flickering from the fireplace next to our table warmed me. I watched the colors dance across the skin of his sharp jaw, his neck, and his large, lithe hands.

"How long have they been married?" I asked.

I was kind of embarrassed that I didn't already know how long Esme and Carlisle had been married, but I had only very recently become friendly with them; I had spent the first several months as their tenant so inside my own head.

"Two years," Edward answered, then took a sip of his wine.

I assumed Carlisle was around 30, judging by where he was in his residency, and I could only assume Esme was a similar age. She didn't seem much older than me, but she and Carlisle were so perfectly matched, they had to be close in age. It occurred to me then that I didn't know how old Edward was. As much as we'd talked and learned about each other, I never thought to ask.

"How old are you?" I asked.

Esme had said that Edward was Carlisle's younger brother. I wondered just how much younger than Carlisle, and alternatively, how much  _older_ than mehe was.

"Twenty-eight," Edward said, keeping his eyes trained on me, waiting for my reaction, I guessed.

"Wow," I said before thinking.

Edward was six years older than me. He was probably already in school before I was even conceived, driving a car before I'd started my period, and graduated college on my Sweet Sixteen.

I remembered the statistic I had learned in a Sociology class my first year in college: "The average age gap in married couples is approximately 3.5 years." I dropped my eyes away from Edward's and took a sip of my wine, trying to think of something to say to cover my uninvited disappointment at our age difference.

"Wow?" Edward snorted lightly, setting his glass on the table in front of him. "How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know," I answered and shrugged, not looking directly at him. "I guess I just didn't realize you're that much older than me."

"Does that bother you?" he asked tilting his head considerably, trying to catch my eye.

I shrugged again and took another unnecessary drink, still avoiding.

I wished it didn't bother me, but it did. Not because I thought he was old, but because of the stupid statistic. It was one of those things I'd held onto as criteria. I wanted someone older than me, but not too old; someone wealthier than me, but not out of reach; and someone successful enough to make me proud to say he was my husband, but not so successful that I would feel like a failure if I was "just a housewife."

"It's stupid," I mumbled. "Never mind."

"Nuh-uh," Edward said, making me look to him in surprise. "You don't get out of this that easy. Tell me what bugs you about our age difference."

He planted his elbows on the table, tenting his arms, and folding his hands under his chin. His eyes were boring holes through me, but, thankfully, they were still filled with amusement.

"I just…"

I tried to think of a way to truthfully explain my thoughts without sounding like a total idiot, but there was no chance of that any time soon.

"I learned all these statistics of successful marriages in one of my classes, one of them being: the average age gap between spouses is 3.5 years."

I nervously spun my wine glass by its stem on the table. Before I could say anything else stupid or Edward could call me a nutbag, our server returned to our table with our dinner salads.

"Bleu cheese?" she asked, holding my salad aloft.

I sat up straight and moved my glass, so she could do her job and serve me my food, then Edward did the same. I slowly and inwardly rolled my eyes at myself. Once she'd served us our salads and refreshed our wine, Edward spoke.

"What are some of the other statistics?" he asked.

I picked up my fork and started poking at my lettuce, mixing my dressing around with the contents of plate.

"Average annual income, areas of the country, number of kids…" My voice trailed off as I realized how ridiculous I sounded, because I was sitting there, on our first date, as good as planning our wedding and we hadn't even gotten through our first course.

I took a deep breath and stole a glance at Edward. He sat across the table from me with the cocky smirk waltzing around his lips and up into his eyes. My fork drooped between my thumb and first two fingers and I pursed my lips.

"You think this is funny?" I asked.

Edward shook his head, but started closed-mouth chuckling as he chewed and swallowed his Caesar salad. He kept on snickering as he sipped his wine. He was just teasing me, I knew that, but I was embarrassed by my girlish fantasy, nonetheless.

I narrowed my stare at him before asking, "It doesn't bother you that I'm only twenty-two? I mean, some people may think you're a cradle robber or something."

"No," Edward said, once he'd gathered enough dignity to wipe the  _smug_  from his face. "It doesn't bother me."

I slipped my fork into my mouth then sharply pulled it back out, clean, as I chewed my own salad. He could sit there and giggle all he wanted about my self-indulgent imagination, but I could poke fun at him, too. My face twisted with mischief.

"Okay," I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh! You know what you should do?"

I could tell Edward wasn't buying my previous act of indifference toward  _his_  indifference. He poked his tongue into the side of his cheek and narrowed his gaze, much like I had just moments before, then grabbed his glass and let it dangle carelessly in his fingers. He raised both eyebrows as if to prompt me to speak, to answer my own question.

"You should ask our server for a senior citizen discount," I answered with a sweet, satisfied smile.

Edward rolled his eyes and laughed.

We laughed a lot, as usual, throughout dinner. Edward ordered filet mignon and I ordered crab legs. We split a hot fudge sundae for dessert as our server poured the last of our wine into our glasses, and I forgot why I'd been even remotely concerned about our age difference.

"Wine's gone," Edward announced after he'd drained the last of his glass. "What now? Check? Nightcap?"

What now…? I knew what I wanted. I wanted Edward to kiss me like he had early that day, but this time I wanted him to be shirtless and me to be pantsless.

I shrugged.

"You could come to my place for a nightcap."

We were no longer coy. While I was playing with the term "nightcap", we both knew that a nightcap was a drink one had  _right before bed_ , and neither of us was avoiding the other's eyes at that point.

One side of Edward's mouth lifted in a smile. His gaze was slightly hooded and his cheeks were flushed from the wine. He looked primed and ready for a good, solid nightcap. I was really good at nightcaps.

"I'll get the check," Edward said as he raised his hand to politely call our server to our table.

**~DL~**

We walked through my door where the evening had begun. I tossed my spare key on the side table along with my phone and wallet, and Edward closed the door behind us. Once inside my apartment, the reality that we were alone, in private for only the second time ever became a shining beacon, flooding me with heat and doubt.

I didn't doubt that I wanted Edward—there was never a doubt that I wanted him. I doubted that he wanted me, or that even if he did want me that I would end up disappointing him. Then I thought of my conversations with Dr. Inara and what I had come to realize in those sessions: I disappointed myself more than I ever disappointed anyone else.

Edward dropped his own keys on the table, right beside, and almost spilling over, my spare key and wallet before fixing me with the intent look in his eyes.

"I'd like to pick up where we left off with the cookies this afternoon," he said quietly, as he meandered slowly toward me.

I stood still at the edge of my living area, holding my breath, and hoping he'd kiss me. He didn't disappoint.

Edward stopped when the toes of his Docs touched my open-toed Jessica Simpsons. He grinned and reached up with both hands to cup my face and draw me into the kiss, picking up right where we left off, just like he'd said, pulling my lips between his and licking the corner of my smile. He used his teeth and he moaned. With every suck and lick and sound, I felt more and more connected to him. We were made one, mouth to mouth.

He moved one hand from my face, down over my torso, and around to the small of my back, slipping his finger into my waistband, drawing little circles. The other hand, he buried deep in the back of my straight and shiny hair, guiding my head as he intensified our kiss.

I had insinuated one of my hands up under the hem of his black button-down and gripped the waist of his jeans while my other hand wandered the back of his hair, his neck, chest, shoulders.

"Take your shirt off," I muttered through our kiss.

Edward didn't argue. He briefly broke our kiss to deftly unbutton and discard his shirt. He reached for me as I gawked at him in a daze—he was finally shirtless.

One of his hands settled on my hip, pulling me close again. He navigated the elastic hem of my top so his fingers could wheedle their way to bare skin, and the back of his other hand ran up over my belly and between my breasts. He rested his palm on my breastbone, his fingers and thumb lightly embracing my throat, tickling, stroking, caressing.

He was  _so_  getting laid.

He kissed me again, my mouth and my jaw. I heard him inhale and sigh as he slipped his hand from my throat around the back of my neck and up into my hair.

Guys loved my hair—they loved pulling it and digging their fingers into it—but Edward seemed to like it in a different way. He wasn't using it as leverage; he seemed to actually like the feel of it.

"You're so soft," he murmured in my ear. "You even smell soft."

In light of our previous conversation—the one where he told me I could be soft and fierce at the same time—I felt buoyed by what he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. His words and his smile made my skin hot. I wanted him so badly, and I wanted to take a chance.

I cupped the front of his pants and tilted my head back as his lips traveled from my mouth to my neck. He was taking his time, scattering tiny kisses down the front of my throat; such a crazy intense sensation, I thought I'd come out of my skin. I needed to ground myself, so I gripped him harder to distract him.

"I want  _this_ …" I squeezed him through his jeans. "In me."

He groaned and his brow furrowed.

"Kind of impatient, aren't you?" he said, pulling my hand from between his legs.

He released my wrist then clasped my shoulders and walked me backward to my couch. I dropped to sit on the cushions while he was standing in front of me. It was all I could do to stop myself from wrenching his pants open and taking him in my mouth. Before I had to try too hard, he spun me so my legs were on the couch as well, and pushed me to my back, then wedged himself in a kneeling position between my thighs.

"What if I told you I'm not that kind of boy?" he asked, defending his virtue against my insistence that he fuck me right there in my living room.

His mouth descended to my neck and he braced his hands on either side of my head on the arm of the couch. His lips and teeth pulled gently at the tight skin that stretched over the muscle running from my ear to my collarbone. I shivered—a physical reaction I was getting used to having to Edward's voice and now his touch—bringing my knees up around his hips. I wanted him inside me. He was taking so much time, teasing and touching.

I'd had a lot of experience with sex, but not a lot of experience just making out. Edward was shirtless and I was still wearing all of my clothes, including my ridiculous shoes. I felt exposed and silly, and yet, so fucking turned on.

"Maybe you aren't," I said, panting. "But you're definitely that kind of man."

"I'm hurt, Rose," he said, teasing. "Are you saying I'm a dirty old man?"

He bit my neck then kissed me some more. I hadn't been trying to tease him about his age—I was over the age thing—but it was cute that he brought it up again, and it made me giggle.

"No," I said, running my hands up and down the sinewy muscles of his back and over his ass. "I just… don't know what you're waiting for."

"Well, it  _is_  called foreplay, and I happen to like it."

Most guys I had been with hadn't shown a lot of interest in foreplay. It was: grab the tits, get inside, pull the hair, come. Edward was just  _la la la la la_  taking his own sweet time, driving me insane, licking my neck, and sliding his knee up until he was placing  _just_  the right amount of pressure on the seam of my jeans between my legs.

He shifted on his knees and pulled one of my wrists up next to my head, rubbing lazy circles inside my palm with his thumb. I was going to explode.

"You should try it sometime," he said.

He was mumbling between kisses as he teased me, grabbed my hip, squeezed. He felt solid and good. He anchored me.

"Like now." He continued to whisper simple words in silken tones, melting me into a puddle on my living room couch. "Now would be a great time for you to try something new."

His hands found their way under the fabric of my top to my breasts, and in a flash he had my shirt all the way up and over my head and the cups of my bra pulled down. He sat up abruptly, kneeling between my legs as I sprawled open, breathing deep and fast, with my nipples peeking over the cups of my pink lace bra.

He was breathing heavy, too, and smiling as he reached for the button of my jeans.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded and watched him unfasten my pants and start to pull them over my hips. I brought the leg that was dangling over the side of the couch up onto the cushions then used my legs to lift the lower half of my body.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked as he pulled my pants the rest of the way off and dropped them to the floor.

I closed my eyes and willed thoughts of Royce away, but couldn't forget how he used to ask me to do things. He asked me to clean his room naked, fuck one of his roommates while he watched, and he took about a million pictures of me giving him head.

Maybe Edward liked to watch like Royce did.

"You like to watch?" I asked, coy and playful as I plucked my nipples, hoping he'd like the show.

"I want you to show me what you like," he replied.

I opened my eyes again and caught Edward's soft smile. His hands rested lightly on my knees and thighs as I touched myself. His eyes followed my fingers as they tweaked my nipples and as my nails lightly scraped my skin, leaving pink lines and goose bumps.

All of the ways that Edward was so very different from Royce, and everyone else, slowly seeped into my brain and body. In that tiny moment, Edward asking me to do something for him that was really for  _me_ , I saw him and the reasons we were there together become crystal clear.

I wondered, again, if I gave Edward the kind of peace and joy that he brought to me just by existing. I hoped I grounded him and supported him the same way he did for me.

I felt him, in the flesh, warm between my legs and thought of him wet in my driveway. He had such emotional and physical impact on me, I was kind of overwhelmed, but I closed my eyes as I slipped my hand between my legs and felt how wet I was from the thought and feel of him.

I heard him groan and felt the couch dip from his movement. His breath was on my thigh and his fingers were at the waist of my panties. He kissed my skin and the silk before pulling them down and off. I kept my eyes closed and pinched my nipple as he revealed my other hand slowly working my clit.

"Is it safe to assume that if you want my cock in you, it means that I can put my tongue and fingers in you?" Edward asked as he kissed my hipbones and my belly.

I breathed heavy and wondered what the fuck he was talking about.

"Are you asking my  _permission_? Why the hell else would we be here?"

I honestly did not get why he would be asking after I thought I had made it abundantly clear that he was getting laid tonight.

"Uhh…" Edward's tone was sarcastic. "Because you invited me in for a drink?"

I looked down at him in desperation, and he arched a brow at me. He didn't stop touching me, though. His hands were lazy, stroking my skin, as I lay open and exposed.

I closed my eyes again and wriggled toward his knees. In lieu of actually saying the word "yes", I pouted like a three-year-old. The pouting usually worked for me. I thought maybe Edward would do the same as anyone else and just fuck me through the awkwardness.

"And of course I'm asking your permission," he murmured.

His voice was softer, quieter as he resumed kissing the skin of my inner thighs and stroking me. I stopped touching myself and lifted my hands above my head. I wanted him to take over, do everything, anything he wanted.

His thumb slid gently, slowly over my clit and down to my opening, but didn't slip inside, just tickled and stroked. He stayed outside, slipping up and down, and up again.

I was so torn. I was turned on by his subtle moves and confident voice, but if I was honest with myself, I was really fucking turned on that he was asking permission to touch me, something no one had ever really done. The almost reverent feeling of his lips and fingers on me urged me forward.

"Should I take that little wiggle as a yes?" he teased me.

"Yes, it's a yes," I laughed and bucked my hips toward his face, and he indulged me.

His thumbs parted me and his tongue touched me intermittently, lightly. He sucked my flesh between his lips, massaging and tasting before he  _finally_  slipped a finger inside me.

I whimpered and he puffed a light and sweet laugh. His thumb smoothed over my clit in tandem with his tongue, featherlike, and I couldn't believe how he was making me feel from such a soft touch. After a few minutes he slid another finger inside.

I remember one night when Emmett and I were looking for my g-spot—we were drunk and both thought it was a myth, so it was kind of a joke—and it felt like a clinical examination. Edward, on the other hand, swirled his fingers around inside and intently slid them up the front, and in no time  _jesusfuckingchrist_  I felt the pressure double.

"Jesus," I gasped in a harsh and breathless whisper. "I'm gonna…"

I arched off the couch, gripping the blanket under me, and letting loose a long, quiet cry. My eye sockets throbbed and my muscles contracted from my head to my toes. When I caught my breath, I felt boneless and light.

My body started to cool, covered in sweat and exposed. Edward reached for the thermal blanket I kept next to the couch and unfolded it to throw it over us. He wrapped me up in the blanket and burrowed behind me on the couch, taking time to touch me with faint strokes to places I never knew were considered erogenous—my ankles, behind my knees, the palms of my hands, inside my wrists.

His chest was warm against my back and I could feel he was hard, but the way he had me cocooned it was a challenge to touch him or give him any kind of relief. I ground my ass back onto his erection, reveling in his hands all over me, slow and graceful. The words I was thinking about to describe how he was touching me didn't jive in my mind with how I usually thought about men, which was no surprise—Edward wasn't just any man. Edward was truly the only guy I had ever been naked with who I could describe as gentle and elegant.

"Is it my turn yet?" I asked, logic telling me I should break from his hold and get his dick inside my body anywhere and any way possible, as I lay languid, soaking up his warmth and touch.

"I like what we're doing right now," he responded quietly.

He cupped a breast in each hand and slowly closed his fingers around their fullness, index fingers and thumbs sliding outward with a final effortless pinch to my nipples. He licked the finger and thumb of his right hand and repeated the motion, making me burn all over again. I melted into him, my head falling back into the crook in his neck, with a sigh. On his third pass, just as he was gently pulling my nipples, I reached back to touch his skin. My other hand rested on one of his hands at work.

I felt him shift his hips and rub against me from behind. I wished so hard that he was naked and slipping inside me right then.

He dropped a hand between my legs again and stroked me, humming, and,  _fuck_ , I wanted him. I was so wet, and he could just push me to the floor and take me hard and fast.

"I'm so wet," I whispered, grinding harder against his cock. "You can have me any way you want."

"Any way I want, huh?" he whispered back, pulling my earlobe between his lips.

He slipped two fingers inside me, curving them expertly and placing the heel of his palm over my clit. He pinched and pulled my nipple with his other hand and whispered sweet and dirty things in my ear. I kept my hand over the top of his, not that he needed a guide, but because I was going to come again, and I needed the stability.

He licked my neck and started fucking me hard with his fingers. They weren't what I really wanted to be fucking me, but oh my  _God_  it was so,  _so_  good.

I was kicking my legs and shouting. I was spinning and falling. Cool air brushing my skin. Then I hit the floor.

I was totally disoriented when I finally realized I was naked and alone in front of my couch. I was sitting in a really awkward position, too. And I heard him laughing.

"What the fuck?" I spun frantically and there sat Edward, shirtless and wild-haired with one hand over his mouth and the other extended toward me.

"Are you okay?"

His shoulders were shaking as he laughed quietly.

"I tried to hold onto you," he said. "But we're both so slippery."

"This is humiliating," I stated bluntly, staring into my lap.

I was embarrassed and getting cold until Edward slid to the floor and wrapped us together in the blanket. He pulled me with him as he settled back against the couch.

" _You're_  humiliated?" He scoffed. "I let you fall. I'm the dude; I'm supposed to be all strong and cool, not let my date fall off the couch."

I settled into him and breathed, letting him comfort me, and calming quickly.

"Do you wanna go to my room?" I asked.

My voice was so small I barely recognized it as my own. Edward nuzzled my neck and kissed my shoulder.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Do you?"

I didn't answer with words; I simply pulled away from his body, taking the blanket with me as I stood. I turned to face him and held out my hand in invitation. He sat on the floor, clad in worn blue jeans, looking up at me with wide blue-green eyes, his closely cropped  _goldenbrownred_  hair a total disaster, and his skin flushed and beautifully decorated. I wished I had a camera in my mind so I would never forget how he looked at that moment.

"Let's go," I said, and he took my hand.


	10. Whispers and Game Changes

Edward took my hand and we made our way to my bedroom. I had been shy moments before, but as we drew closer to the door, I started to think about all the things I was so good at in that room. I started to think about how much I wanted to share with Edward and show to him.

We had already shared so much more than I had with most of the people who were privy to my bedroom skills, and I couldn't help but become disproportionately excited about seeing Edward naked and getting him inside me. Dr. Inara might consider my actions to be a regression to my old habits, but Edward wasn't like any of the people I associated with those old habits at all. Plus, he was ridiculously fucking hot and had just made me come one and a half times with barely any effort at all, so I was pretty excited about what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry my room's such a mess," I said as I flipped on the dim light and we walked through the door.

It wasn't a disaster or anything, but it didn't look like a Pottery Barn photo shoot, either, and I was my mother's daughter, so I had to apologize for my housekeeping skills being less than Donna Reed Grade.

"I don't care," Edward replied, grasping my wrist and pulling me back from teetering just outside the thick, warm, intense moment with him.

The blanket I'd wrapped around myself slipped down my body, before hitting the floor with a  _fwomp_. Edward wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me close, still holding my other wrist in his hand. He began to move, like we were slow dancing, rocking our joined forms side to side. His torso was bare and warm against me and I laid my head over his heart as he laid his head on top of mine.

_Thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…_

I slowly became entranced by his heartbeat; the rhythm, the intimacy, the utter lack of insistence, but instead the hope that I heard in it. I thought I could stand and sway with him like that all night. Then his body shifted ever so slightly and I felt something hard nudge my belly.

I smiled and squirmed. In spite of my lust for the beat of his heart, my lust for his other parts was battling for the win.

I turned my head and kissed his neck, dipped my face and pulled his nipple between my tongue and my top lip, circled my tongue around then gently bit down, and he hissed.

"Mmm," he groaned.

One of his hands traveled to the back of my head where he grabbed a handful of hair, then backed into the closest level surface, which happened to be my bed.

He sat down and I released his nipple from my mouth. I debated whether I should straddle him or get on my knees. I decided to get on my knees, because I wanted to see him— _it_ —up close and personal. I couldn't  _wait_.

I dropped to kneel and quickly worked on his jeans. Edward sighed and leaned back into my comforter, bracing himself on his elbows. I had his pants open and my hand at the base of his cock inside his boxers before I could think about whether or not I  _was_  regressing, or before I could even care. Then I pulled everything away from his body and down over his hips.

He was hard and gently curved; nicely, but not weirdly, groomed; not too big, but not too small—he was perfect. And I was salivating.

I could feel a scar around his head—most likely from circumcision—and I marveled at how odd it was that I'd never felt that on any other of the myriad of cock I'd seen and touched in my life. It was smoother than the other skin, a little raised up, and his breath hitched slightly as I dragged my thumb across it. I guessed I never had the chance to really explore like Edward was allowing me to do at that moment.

I ran my finger around his tip and felt his body shake and shiver as he moaned and lightly thrust his hips. I reluctantly peeled my eyes away from what was about to feed my weeks-long, eager curiosity in order to meet his gaze.

"Fuck, you're pretty," I breathed, and I guessed he felt it because he moaned with my breath.

Edward looked suddenly relieved; as if he had been worried about what I'd think before I had spoken.

Then he asked, "Is this what you want?" his voice low and soft.

"Yes," I replied with absolute assurance that all I wanted right at that moment was his hard, hot, perfect cock in my mouth. "This is  _exactly_  what I want."

Edward licked his lips and shifted his hips. I stifled a smug grin as I licked my own lip, watching his jaw clench and his chest unsteadily rise and fall with every shaky breath. He grabbed for my wrist and balled my comforter in his other hand.

I wrapped my lips around his tip, and licked, and swirled, and kissed. Then I pulled my wrist from his grasp and really went to work.

Edward surrendered, collapsing to his back and throwing his arms wide, when I slid him all the way down my throat. I turned my eyes up to watch his face for just a second, and his grin practically knocked me on my ass. It felt so good that I could make him smile that way, but I also wanted to make him come. I wanted to make him feel the way he'd made me feel on the couch. Also, I knew if I made him come right then, he'd last longer later, and I definitely wanted some extended quality time with his hard-on.

So, I squeezed and caressed, sucked and swirled. I moaned around his hardness and lightly grazed him a few times with my teeth. My fingers languidly explored.

"Róisín." His voice was urgent and strained. "I'm gonna come."

Yes _._

I kept him in my mouth, sucking lightly. The sounds he made were guttural and all male. I twirled my tongue around him a few times then felt him pulse deep and wet, and I swallowed.

After a few minutes of letting him come down, I gently pulled his pants the rest of the way off and stood.

"I'm gonna grab some water." I spoke quietly as he lolled about, looking a little bit like one of those artistic nude images you see that are usually black and white. "Want some?"

He blinked a few times then propped himself back up on his elbows and looked me up and down. I was briefly self-conscious about being completely naked in front of him. Yet, the look on his face told me not to be.

"Or maybe you'd prefer something to eat," I teased, then pointedly turned my back to give him the full view of my ass. "You look hungry, even after all that meat."

I heard him laugh lightly as I left the room to fill a couple of glasses. He hadn't answered that he was thirsty, but I could only assume, after all the panting he'd done, that his mouth would be dry.

I returned to the bedroom, handed him his water, which he quickly began to gulp down, then climbed under the covers with him. His body was so hot.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable," I said, referring to his getting in bed and pulling open the blankets for me in invitation.

"Well," he said, as I settled next to him and sipped my own water. "Usually after I come in someone's mouth I assume a lot. Like, that it's cool if I use her blankets."

I stifled a spray of water from flying out of my mouth before responding, "Good point."

"But, seriously," Edward said, his voice getting soft and quiet again. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Yeah," I said. "I did. A lot."

I liked giving head for a lot of reasons, least of which was the power that so many people—especially men, it seemed—talked about. In the weeks that I'd been seeing Dr. Inara and allowing myself to be honest, I'd learned a lot about me. One thing was, I liked sex and I wasn't ashamed to show it.

Maybe that, in itself, was a powerful thing for me to acknowledge. I had never thought about giving head as a play for power, though; I thought of it as pure, primal instinct. People have been having sex since the beginning of time for one reason or the other, but there was no other reason for a woman to choose, and to  _enjoy_ , sucking cock, unless she took pleasure in it.

 _That_  was what I loved about it—the simple fact of loving it because I could.

"Siobhan…" Edward paused, eyeing me sideways, clearing his throat. "Are we still there? Where we can talk about exes even though you just gave me the best blow job ever?"

I grinned, feeling the edges of my mouth at my earlobes. I nodded yes, but laid a hand on his forearm to stop him before he proceeded.

"Best ever, huh?" I bit my lip to stop from giggling like a nerd.

"That was…" Edward breathed out a satisfied laugh. "Yes, that was the best ever."

"Okay, then," I said, staring into his eyes as we ogled each other goofily. "You can say anything you want about Siobhan."

His smile faltered, slightly. He took a deep breath.

"She always gave me head when she was sorry," he said running his fingers over the skin of my arm then up and down again. "Made me feel like an asshole for wanting it."

"You're so far from an asshole," I muttered, shivering, and goose-bumping, and getting wet all over again.

Edward's fingers wandered from my arm to my collarbone and over my shoulders in circles. I pulled away from him for just a minute to set my glass securely on my nightstand before spawling on my back so he could finish his inspection.

"I love the way you touch me," I said to him on a sigh, letting my arms rest on the pillow that cradled my head.

Edward pulled the blanket away to expose my torso and hips. He laid his hands flat on my chest then lightly dragged them over my body, curved his fingers around my waist, and settled, gripping my hips.

He climbed to his knees and between my open thighs, pushing them further open as his hands randomly tightened and loosened on my hips.

Jimbo jumped up onto the shelf of my headboard and started to pace. That was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't want to take any time away from what Edward was doing to me to tend to my quirky little companion.

"It's all right, little guy," Edward said with a grin, pushing my legs open and up as I felt his knees slide alongside my ass under my bent legs. "I'm gonna take good care of her, but I don't want you to watch."

There was a split second where Jimbo and Edward had a stare-down before Jimbo swished his tail then hopped off the headboard and left the room.

Edward leaned forward, grasping my wrists, and thrusting his hips. I could feel him hard between my upper thigh and right where I wanted him. I shifted slightly to get him closer, and…  _oh, my God_.

"Right there," I whispered as he expertly slipped against my clit. "Right… fucking… there."

"Yeah?" Edward's voice was like fine, wet sand.

He continued to slowly thrust and swivel his hips. He had me trapped by the wrists and my upper thighs between his knees. I was thrilled to be his prisoner, but I wanted to touch him and get that solid, thickness inside me.

"I want you," I said, looking him in the eye.

He smiled and dipped to kiss me—my mouth, my jaw, my neck—then said, "I wanna make you come like this."

I was close, so he was about to get what he wanted.

"Can you come like this?" he asked, his voice still grainy and soaked with craving.

My breathing sped up exponentially knowing that what he was doing was not ultimately what either of us wanted, meaning we were going to be there for a lot longer, doing a lot more.

"Oh, yeah," I answered. "Fuck yeah."

My breathing stuttered, then, and I was clenching and soaring for the second time that night.

"You're officially forgiven for throwing me off my couch," I said as I felt him stroking and squeezing my thighs and calves, soothing my muscles as he helped me come back down to earth.

I breathed heavy and sat up. Edward was sitting back on his haunches, blankets bunched and sprawled all around him, as he stroked himself and smirked at me; the cocky smirk, pun intended. I sighed and twisted at the waist to rifle through my nightstand drawer, looking for a condom. Once I found one, I turned back and reached for him, setting the condom off to the side.

I climbed to my knees and started to kiss him and stroke him. We were both kneeling, facing each other, touching everywhere. I played with his body and traced his tattoos. He did the same. I wanted to fuck him without a condom, be closer to him, closer than I'd ever been with anyone. I wanted to feel him raw and hot inside me. But I knew I should be safe and responsible for both of us, so I picked up the condom and tore it open.

Once I'd discarded of the wrapper, I looked into his eyes. They searched mine with openness and honesty, caring.

He drew patterns on my knee and asked, "Are you sure?"

I smiled and nodded. "Yes. Completely. Are you?"

"Yes." He mirrored and echoed my agreement.

I put the condom on him and slowly climbed over his lap. As I guided him inside, he wrapped his arms around me. We both sighed as I slowly sunk down onto him. I rested my hands on his shoulders while I rode him slow and soft, rotating, squeezing. His hands explored my hips, my belly, my breasts, and my back.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, and I almost cried.

No one had ever said that to me while we were fucking.

"Fuck me," he said. "Fuck me while I kiss you."

His hands moved from my hips to my face and he started to kiss me hard and long. We were both grunting from impact and exertion, swearing and kissing and biting. Just as I started to feel it in my belly—feel it spread and spin and sizzle—Edward's hand buried and twisted into my hair, and he pulled at the same time as he bit my bottom lip with his teeth.

"Yes," he said, through clenched teeth.

My body turned to molten lava from my gut to my fingers and my toes. My brain was the last to burn out.

**~DL~**

I had never been one of those people who claimed to hate Mondays, like, wearing t-shirts or sending emails to friends about my need for coffee or "IS IT FRIDAY YET?" but when I woke up with Edward wrapped around my body and I felt his morning wood hard between my thighs, I really wished it were Sunday.

I kept my back to him for just a few more minutes, relishing the way he made me feel; warm and safe, a little bit sore from the night before, and wondering if there was any way he and I could work in a quickie before I had to go to class. Then I felt him shift behind me and between my legs. His hand stroked my belly, then traveled up to cup my breast and lightly pinch my nipple. I ground my ass back into his hips and squeezed my thighs around his cock.

Edward groaned and used his other hand to move my hair out of the way. He kissed my neck and rolled me to my stomach, reached for my nightstand drawer, and quickly found a condom. I pulled my knees up so I could kneel a little, giving him better access, then, thankfully, I felt a hand on my hip, and his hips between my legs, his other hand guiding himself inside me from behind.

It was quick, but we both came, panting and grinning.

"What're you doin' today?" Edward asked as he fastened his pants and watched me tie my robe around my waist.

"I have class at ten, then I'm meeting Riley for lunch so he can take me to get my car," I answered. "Your shirt's in the living room."

I smiled as I passed him and laughed as he tried to grab me. I squealed and ran out to the kitchen. Edward caught up with me at the sink where I was drinking a glass of water. He leaned against the counter and studied me with a soft smile on his face.

"What?" I asked.

He was still distractingly shirtless and suddenly self-satisfied.

"You like me," he said.

"Yeah…?" I rolled my eyes playfully and tried to walk away.

But he wouldn't let me. He grabbed the back of my robe and pulled me close to him.

"I like you, too," he muttered in my ear and hugged me. "And I wanna talk to you later tonight."

"Okay," I answered, happy that he wanted to see me again so soon.

Yet, I was getting used to Edward being unlike anyone else. I was so used to it, in fact, that I was starting to become a little bit smug, thinking about how much he liked me and genuinely wanted to be with me.

"Have a good day, Róisín," Edward said with a crooked smile when I opened my door for him to leave. "And call me later."

"I will," I nodded and didn't even try to hide my enormous grin. "You have a good day, too."

Edward waved over his head as he descended my stairs and made his way to his SUV. The sun was so bright, I worried about the time getting away from me, and that I was going to be late for class, so I turned and quickly went back inside to get ready for my day.

**~DL~**

"Well, well," Riley said with a wry smile. "What is  _that_  look about? Are you in love again already?"

Riley could really be an insensitive prick, but I chose not to let his cynicism get to me. The Edward-buzz I was riding on started with the cookie kisses and hadn't ended even after he'd left my apartment earlier that morning.

"Maybe," I said with a shrug before stuffing spinach salad into my mouth and taking a sip of iced tea. "He's different, though."

Riley raised his eyebrows then let one fall in speculation, and I prepared for the onslaught of questions. He was generally tactless, but he never let me fool myself. He was one of those few who easily and readily pointed out Royce's flaws from the very beginning.

"Really," he stated, rather than asked. "Pray tell about this perfect man, dear."

Riley chewed his food slowly and watched me carefully. I was under interrogation from one of the best.

"He listens to me," I said as I calmly put down my fork on the table as to not divide my attention—I felt this explanation needed my entire focus. "He asks what  _I_  want. He's sweet and lets me see how he really feels about me instead of telling me he feels how he  _doesn't_  feel. He's vulnerable and strong… and he's insanely sexy."

I got another arched brow from Riley, but this one was less cynical and more intrigued.

"Wow," Riley said with a smirk. "That's a mouthful, even for you, Chatty."

Riley pushed his fries around on his plate and I picked up my fork again to resume eating. I hadn't realized at the time that I was getting sort of worked up and maybe even a little defensive of Edward.

"He's really special, is all," I said quietly.

"I'm getting that," Riley said. "Just be careful, love."

I looked up to meet his eyes and they were soft; softer than I was ever used to seeing from Riley. His caution and concern wasn't necessarily unprecedented, but the serious look on his face made me really pause.

"When do I get to meet him?" he asked.

I smiled. "I'll set something up."

**~DL~**

"Do you want to go with me to Chicago?" Edward asked after only about ten minutes into our phone call that night.

At lunch, Riley had requested to meet Edward, I assume to give his stamp of approval, or whatever. Now Edward was asking me to go on a road trip with him. To his hometown. To, presumably, meet his family.

"I mean…" I heard Edward sort of stammered over his words on the other end of the line; it was adorable. "I don't know what your class schedule's like, but I was thinking about driving to Cleveland on Saturday night after the shelter, heading to Chicago on Sunday morning, and coming back on Tuesday."

The trip he was planning was a full three days. I was slightly stunned, not unpleasantly, by the fact that he wanted to spend that much time with me. I was also stunned by where we were in our relationship; evidently, we had arrived at that stage where friends and family begin to either enhance the relationship or make it really messy.

"Can you take a few days off?" he asked.

"Lemme see what's on my schedule for those days," I answered, my mind racing, thinking about riding in Edward's car for nine hours to meet his family.

I wondered—probably because of Riley's caution—if I would be encountering a lot of surprises during the trip. I wouldn't have said Edward was "too good to be true" because that's a phrase people used for liars, but I still felt there had to be so much I had yet to learn about him.

I remembered family road trips and how my dad used to talk endlessly—so much more than he ever, ever talked usually—about his childhood, friends, family secrets. I wondered if Edward was wired the same way. Like, if he got behind the wheel of a car for several hours, he would babble incessantly and reveal all kinds of  _secrets_.

All that being said, Edward had already told me about his great-grandmother and Siobhan. What he hadn't really delved into was how those things affected him, deep down, profoundly and irreversibly. Not that he presented himself as totally unscathed, but I wondered…

"Can I let you know tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem," he answered enthusiastically.

"Good," I smiled. "Well, I should probably get going. I have laundry and studying to do."

"Okay," he sighed. "I just wish I could get my hands on you again tonight, but you have laundry and I really need to spend some time with Masen. I think he's feeling rejected."

I tingled at the mention of him putting his hands on me, then snorted at Jimbo who sat across the room looking like he could hear and understand my entire conversation. Jimbo was flat out indignant.

"I hear ya. Jimbo's still glaring at me with his  _one eye_. I think we may have scarred him for life last night."

"Hey," Edward laughed. "I warned him."

I laughed, too.

"Thanks, again," I said. "For dinner… and just… such a great night."

I felt myself blush, because we both knew I was thanking him for things like puckered nipples and orgasms. But I was also thanking him for the way he made me feel emotionally, not just physically. No matter what happened, during the roadtrip or three months from then, I would always cherish the way Edward made me feel.

"You make me feel like you care and that you want me," Edward said, and my face burned hotter with the thought that our feelings were entirely mutual. "I want you to feel the same way. I want you to know I feel that way, too."

I loved his bare honesty. It was hard for me to believe that I could ever make Edward feel the same way he made me feel. I knew as well as anyone else that I gave a good blowjob, but Edward wasn't talking about coming right then either.

"I do care," I replied. "And I know you do, too."

"Good." His voice was quiet and gentle. He sounded so close.

"Okay," I said. "G'night, then."

"Yeah," he said. "Sleep tight."

"You, too."

We were bordering on high school kids, saying things like " _you_  hang up," "no  _you_  hang up," and I rolled my eyes at myself, but couldn't suppress a smile.

"I'm seriously hanging up now," I said.

"Okay," he laughed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. If you wanna… come over after you leave the shelter?"

"Sure," I said, feeling better about hanging up since I knew when I'd talk to him again. "I'll call you tomorrow night."

I didn't wait for him to say more, and I disconnected our call. I sighed, happily, and got myself a glass of water before searching for my messenger bag.

As I settled down at the kitchen island with a stack of reading, I allowed myself to think again about things that I felt I should know about Edward. I made a short list in my mind of things I wanted to ask him on the road trip. I wasn't suspicious that he was hiding anything from me; I just wanted to be sure I knew everything I should know, so that I could give him everything he needed.

It struck me, again, that I would most likely be meeting his parents. Although he hadn't come right out and said that I would, Edward had never been shy about talking about them, so I assumed. I honestly had no idea what to expect from that side of things.

Was his mother like Esme? He had mentioned that she baked his favorite cookie. Was his father like him, or Carlisle? My mind scrambled to remember what Edward had told me his dad did for a living. Had he even told me yet?

I felt my heart start to race and pound. I did  _not_  want to have a panic attack over such small unknowns. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, pulling my brain back to the point where I could be happy and bask in my Edward-buzz.

When I opened my eyes, Jimbo was sitting on the kitchen island facing me, looking like he was ready to fall asleep sitting up. I couldn't help but laugh.

"You are somethin' else," I said, reaching out to scratch his head, and he nuzzled into my hand.

I took one more deep breath and thought again about Edward reaching for me and whispering to me. He hadn't been rough with me in a way that made me feel less than secure, but he took what he wanted. The only time Edward seemed unsure was when he was telling me how he felt.

I could certainly identify with the fear of being rejected or mocked after telling someone you care for them, when they don't care for you. Even though I was still working on not making things up, I thought maybe that Edward and I had that in common. At least I hoped.


	11. Road Trip pt. 1

_"I'm just a kid and you're a walkin' candy store."_

_Dan Auerbach_

I called Edward on Tuesday night after I got home from the shelter, but he was crazy busy with his latest project that somehow went haywire after his partner rendered something to something other than what he was supposed to do. I had no idea what that meant, but I was bummed that he was so stressed and that I wasn't going to get to see him that night.

We talked for a bit, even though he sounded tense, and I cheered him up by telling him my schedule was open enough for me to go with him to Chicago.

"That's great." Edward sounded lighter and happier with that simple news. "I'll call my mom and dad tonight, then, and let them know there'll be two of us."

I loved that he sounded so relaxed in the midst of all that stress.  _I did that to him_ ; I calmed him. I was also excited by the fact that he was taking me to stay with his parents. I wanted to stop comparing Edward and Royce, but that was a glaring example of how totally different they were and how totally happy Edward made me.

"And, since we're leaving Saturday night, we'll need to stop halfway," Edward continued, on a roll with the same excitement I was feeling. "My best friend from college lives in Cleveland with her wife and their four-year-old son. They're always fun to stay with and the perfect halfway point from here to Chicago."

Meeting the Parents and the Best Friend were rites of passage in a relationship that was rarely bestowed upon me. When it was, it usually gave me major anxiety. At that moment, I chose to shelve the anxiousness and just bask in the knowledge that he wanted me with him.

It occurred to me that what Edward was saying was his best friend from college was a woman married to a woman and that they had a son.

 _God, I love my boyfriend_ , I thought to myself.

Then I caught myself calling him my boyfriend in my head and blushed furiously. Not that I was worried that I was making that up, that it wasn't a reality, but that it made me just that giddy.

"That's cool," I said. "I'm excited to meet them, too."

"Good," he said. "Okay, I gotta get back to it. Call me tomorrow?"

"Sure," I answered before we said our final goodbyes and hung up.

On Wednesday, Edward was still consumed by work, but he sounded much less stressed. We talked for about 15 minutes while I sipped my wine and we flirted.

"What kinds of things are you gonna do to entertain me on this trip?" I asked, trying to keep the mood light and fun to give him a few moments of respite from his project.

"I'm sure Masen'll be doing most of the entertaining," he laughed. "He loves road trips—goes from high-alert, standing in the back seat, to passing out and snoring, back to standing at alert."

I could hear him grinning. He sounded as if he couldn't bear  _not_  smiling while talking to me; I could relate to that feeling. Or maybe he just liked talking about his dog.

"This'll be a landmark trip for me!" I said. "I get to spend quality time with Masen  _and_  meet your parents and best friend from college."

"So…" He paused before asking, "You're not nervous?"

I paused as well and thought about what he was asking me and how to answer. The answer was "yes" because I was nervous about everything that was important, especially when it came to Edward, but I had learned to pick my anxiety battles and to not let every little thing get to me, or dwell on things that I couldn't change. But I had to be honest. I couldn't keep anything from him.

"Well," I began. "Yeah. A little?"

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I'm really looking forward to meeting your parents, Edward," I continued. "But it's a big deal and I don't exactly have a lot of practice going home to meet Mommy."

"Róisín," he said softly, sounding slightly disappointed, not understanding what I was trying to say.

"No, listen," I said. "I'm not putting myself down, I swear. What I really mean to say is that this is important to you, so it's important to me, and that's why I'm nervous."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," I answered.

"Okay… good, then," he sighed with relief. "But, I should warn you: my parents can sometimes come off as  _slightly_  judgmental."

I snorted, because while that should have made me even more nervous, his ironic tone let me know that whatever their deal was he wasn't in favor of it, and that he would have my back. It reminded me that we were in this together.

"For example," Edward continued with the same wry tinge to his voice. "My dad really wishes I had gone to medical school like Carlisle did. Another example? My mom hates everyone I date, so when she's a bitch to you, don't take it personally, okay?"

I laughed out loud. "Of course not—why should I?"

"No, but seriously…" he said. "I just wanna prepare you ahead of time. I don't want you to think they hate you because of  _you_ ; if they hate you, it's because they're assholes."

"Oh, my God, Edward," I continued laughing. "You're terrible!"

"No," he said. "I love them, but they're jerks sometimes. I'm just keepin' it real."

"Whatever, old man." I was shaking my head and calming my laughter. "Anything else I should know while we're being brutally honest?"

Edward took a deep, slow breath before answering my teasing question. I felt like I was melting as I heard him exhale, equally as deeply and slowly.

"Yeah." He paused. "I'm really looking forward to spending this time together."

There was that bare and sweet honesty that so simply defined Edward and made me pleasantly and involuntarily blush and tingle. Not that I wouldn't volunteer to blush and tingle for him if given the chance, but they were reactions that I couldn't control—visceral and absolutely lovely.

"Me too," I quietly answered with a small smile.

After our call ended that night I didn't think too much about what his parents would say about me or how they would treat me. Instead, I took Edward's advice and didn't allow the possibility that his mother already hated me define or taint my feelings about our upcoming trip together.

Besides, I had a lot of other things to freak out about.

I spent Thursday and Friday evenings obsessing over what to pack and how to pack it, how dirty my kitchen was, whether or not to buy a self-scooping litter box so that Esme wouldn't feel like she had to clean Jimbo's litter, washing every article of clothing I owned then packing and unpacking my bag three times… and trying not to think at all about the last time I was supposed to go on a road trip with a guy.

I reminded myself ten thousand more times that Edward and Royce were nothing alike, and that there was nothing Edward would ever do to hurt me as much as Royce would do on a good day without even trying. Yet, I remained anxious, not knowing exactly what the trip would hold, good or bad.

By Saturday afternoon, I was wound so tight I worried any minute I'd spin out into the exosphere. I dragged my overstuffed weekend roller bag down my stairs a full 15 minutes before Edward was even expected to be there, but I couldn't stand around in my apartment any longer or I'd end up rearranging my spice rack again.

Esme was sitting out on her patio with a glass of lemonade and a book. She noticed me before I got all the way to the bottom of the staircase because my fucking bag was so heavy, it sounded like a jackhammer on the slate surface of the steps.

"Hey," she called to me as she closed her book, grinning the grin I'd come to recognize as Esme Totally Knows Something's Up. In this case, the grin was Esme Totally Knows I'm Fucking Her Brother In-law.

"Hey," I replied once I'd landed at the bottom of the staircase. "How's it goin'?"

"Good," she said as she approached me, frowning slightly as I wrestled with the satchel I had slung over my shoulder. "Going to Chicago, I hear."

She stopped in front of me and helped me untangle the strap of my bag from my hair. I was sure I looked like a lunatic; over-caffeinated and overly flushed. I wondered if my pupils were dilated and if she'd notice.

"Yeah," I said, my voice surprisingly calm sounding for as anxious as I was. "I'm excited. I've never been to Chicago, so…"

Esme and I both knew I wasn't just excited because I'd never visited the Windy City, and she wasn't about to pretend we were talking about sightseeing and city culture.

"You two'll enjoy the time together." She smiled. "You're staying with Cullens, right?"

"I think so," I said. "Edward speaks so highly of them, so I can't wait to meet them."

I hoped Esme recognized the sarcasm. I kind of needed her reassurance right then. I thought it was safe to assume since she knew about our trip, she might also know what we had planned for said trip, i.e. dealing with his parents, staying with the BFF.

Esme snorted in response.

"Caroline Cullen's a real treat, Rose." Esme rolled her eyes. "But once you get past the initial brash surface, there's a whole other layer of hostility, so it's fun! Keeps you on your toes."

It was my turn to snort at Esme's snarkiness regarding Carlisle and Edward's mom. It did alleviate some tension, though.

"Edward said she's kind of…" I paused, shifting my bag to my other shoulder and letting my luggage sit in the grass. "Picky about who he dates."

Esme let out a bark of laughter.

"That's a bit of an understatement, but it's not just who Edward dates, if it makes you feel any better," she said. "It's anyone who dates either of her sons. She  _hated_  me. For the longest time I blamed myself, because of how Carlisle and I met."

I recalled what Esme had told me about Carlisle's dad being the surgeon who saved her life after her ex attacked and almost killed her. I was forever grateful for Esme's camaraderie and support; from the moment I told her about Royce's sudden death until this very moment, she was like a sister in arms. We had both been through some shit and she totally got me. The simple fact that she had already been through the proverbial wringer with Edward and Carlisle's parents was further comfort. I was glad she was sharing.

"But, bottom line is, she loves them, ya know?" Esme raised her eyebrows, and I nodded in return.

"It's weird," she continued. "It was just like, one day I was all of a sudden acceptable."

She shrugged. I hoped that I would have a similar experience as she'd had in the end, but at least I knew that if the Cullens didn't like me, it would be no fault of my own. Edward and Esme had both confirmed that.

"You guys are leaving right after work?" Esme asked, eyeing my bags.

I nodded. "We're staying in Cleveland tonight with friends of Edward's."

"Oh, Darla and Dru?" Esme perked up.

"He didn't tell me their names, but they live in the Ohio City area?" I said.

"Yes." Esme nodded with a smile. "Darla was a TA of Edward's in college. For Sociology, I think? Dru's her wife. She's scattered and sweet and makes  _amazing_  desserts. Dru's pregnant with their second child…"

Esme's voice trailed off when Carlisle wandered out of the house, looking like he hadn't slept in days—he probably hadn't.

"Hey, baby," Esme greeted him. "Did you get a nap?"

"Not really," he grumbled, slipping his sunglasses over his eyes and taking a sip from a mug. "But, coffee's good."

He pulled Esme into his side, kissing her temple and muttering something I was sure was sweet, if he was anything like his brother. I grinned and looked away, giving them a moment of privacy, even though they hadn't asked for it.

Edward interrupted the endearing moment by pulling haphazardly across the wide-paved driveway. Masen was standing "at attention" in the back seat, as predicted. Carlisle rolled his eyes and Esme snorted as the three of us cleared the way for Edward to park.

"Ready?" he asked as he hopped out of the Cayenne and came directly for my bags.

He was dressed for the evening's self-defense class: baseball cap, t-shirt, loose cotton pants, trainers, all black. He was also wearing sunglasses, since it was a sunny afternoon, but he wouldn't be wearing those while he was teaching. It was a pity, really, because he looked totally fucking hot.

"Yep, I'm ready," I answered, letting him take my rolling bag and shifting my satchel one more time.

"Okay," Esme said. "Be safe driving and give us a call if you need anything."

"Rose," Carlisle addressed me, then. "Please say hello to my home town, and don't let my family scare you off."

"See?" Esme smiled, laying her head on Carlisle's shoulder.

Edward gave me his own  _I told you so_  look as he flung my bag in the back of his vehicle.

"Thanks," I said as I hugged Esme and she responded with a tight squeeze.

"No prob," she said. "Have fun."

Carlisle made fun of Edward's parking job, and Edward told him to go fuck himself, then Edward and I climbed into the car to head to the shelter for a few hours before we had to leave town.

**~DL~**

Once we were on the road, it became apparent that Edward was a get-behind-the-wheel-of-a-car-and-babble kind of guy. He talked about his family and friends and his childhood.

"My parents never trust anyone." He shook his head. "My dad says it's because they worked their way to where they are with no help from anyone but themselves, but that's a lame excuse, in my opinion."

"What do you think it is, then?" I asked, sipping my bottled water and listening to the music Edward had chosen, not yet sure who it was, but liking it nonetheless.

"Who knows?" He rolled his eyes. "It makes sense that they'd rely on each other, but it still seems like a cop-out that they refuse to rely on friends and neighbors. And I had to watch what it did to Carlisle as we were growing up. He always tried so hard to be what  _they_  wanted and usually ended up making himself miserable."

Edward twisted in the driver's seat to retrieve his bottle of water for a sip.

"I decided a long time ago that I wasn't gonna let my parents dictate what I did and who I did it with." He sounded determined, but morose. "Which may be why I was so willing and open to get burned as many times as I have."

Even though he sounded kind of sad, I was glad that he was still willing to be open. I hoped he wouldn't stop telling me these things and trusting me, because I could tell he needed to be able to trust someone; and I wanted to be that someone.

"Thank you," I said, being careful to sound as sincere as I felt, and as he needed me to sound. "I'm honored that you trust me. I know it wasn't easy."

I thought about the night we had dinner at his brother's house. He didn't know me from Dick that night, had just months before been deeply wounded and betrayed by the woman he had promised to take care of and who had promised him things in return. He was nothing but a gentleman to me, even through the wall he tried to construct between us.

One would think he would be an expert at building walls, considering what he'd said about his parents, but it was becoming clear to me that Edward didn't like barriers.

He tossed me that sweet crooked smile.

"I always told myself to just hang in there, roll with the punches. I mean, that was the reason I trusted blind, right?" Edward looked at me sideways for reassurance, as he drove, and I nodded. "But by the time I met you, I was so tired."

He shook his head.

I encouraged him to keep talking. "Tired?"

"I'd given up," he said. "I guess that's why I did what I did when we first met."

"Are you saying that you liked me from the beginning, but were trying to deny it?" I asked, already knowing that he had been defending himself, but thinking he needed to say it, confess it to me, and that was okay with me. "Were you scared?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he admitted quietly.

"I don't blame you," I said, just as quietly. "I don't think we're rushing things—at all—but we've both had a rough year. It's okay to be cautious."

He eyed me sideways again with a smile as he replaced his water bottle in the cup holder. Then he reached for me, burying his hand in the back of my hair, weaving his fingers through my loose ponytail.

"My grandma, my dad's mom, used to swear every time a pet died that she wouldn't get another one." He sighed as he gently closed and opened his palm over the back of my neck. "But we all knew she would, because she was meant to be a caretaker; it's what's kept her breathing all these years."

I smiled, feeling my heart swell from the reverence in his voice as he talked about his grandmother. I peeked over my shoulder and Edward's wrist to see Masen snoring in the back seat, his enormous body sprawling and lolling about.

"You remind me of her," Edward said.

"Of your grandma?" I laughed, looking back at Edward as he drove.

He let go of my neck and lightly tugged my ponytail.

"Not like  _that_ , weirdo," he said. "I meant, because you're always conscientious of taking care of people, even when you pretty much ignore yourself."

He grabbed his water bottle again and took a big swig.

His assessment of me was skewed from what I thought of myself, but it wasn't far from what Alice and Riley always said. I thought for so long that I was a selfish bitch, but the people closest to me saw me differently.

"I grew up watching my parents take care of each other, so I wanted to follow that model, I guess," I said, understanding that part of my psychology, as a whole, for the first time in my life. "I never considered taking care of myself to be important, because I thought if I cared enough for someone else, they'd do the same for me."

Edward dropped his water bottle back into place and absently reached for my hand. I held it open as he drew light circles and patterns in my palm, occasionally entwining his fingers with mine as I spoke.

"I sabotaged my relationships," I said, shaking my head and tingling from the feel of his fingers on my sensitive skin. "I nurtured the wrong ones for so long. I cared for a man who treated me like his dirty little secret."

Edward gripped my hand tighter, then, grounding me as he often did.

"I didn't realize how much it hurt the people I loved to watch me not care for myself."

"It still does," he said, clearly aggravated by my disregard for myself, but not harshly rebuking my behavior. "I want you to be better to yourself."

He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it, my knuckles, and the paper-thin skin that covered all those fragile, little bones. I felt delicate and light at that moment, but safe because Edward was holding my hand.

We drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Masen made some goofy snorting noises, like he was dreaming about chasing rabbits or romping with his friends. Edward and I both laughed and I felt so  _good_. Edward and I had hit a groove and were making it smooth and perfect.

I looked down at our joined hands and then back up at Edward. He looked thoughtful and soft as he smiled at me, then back at the road.

"What are we listening to?" I drifted to the next topic, easy and light.

Edward turned the volume up a little bit with the controls on the steering wheel, not letting go of my hand.

"Dan Auerbach," he answered. "You like it?"

I nodded. "I remember you talking about it at Carlisle and Esme's."

"I like him a lot," Edward said. "And there's a song on this record that reminds me of you."

I felt my face get warm in the dark car. I would have been lying like a lying liar if I had said it didn't turn me on to know he listened to music and thought of me.

"Lemme see if I can find it," Edward said as he grabbed his iPod and drove with one hand, navigating the player until he found the song he was looking for.

The song had an insanely sexy groove. As Edward sang along, and I listened to the lyrics, I began to seriously consider road head. He was having the best time singing and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I was giddy like a little girl as he serenaded me.

"Sexy," I said, smiling and shivering.

"Right?" he said. "It's so you, Róisín."

I rolled my eyes, pretending to think what he was saying was corny or something, when all I really wanted to do was kiss his face off and have him pull over at the next rest stop so we could do other things.

After a few more songs Edward asked, "Do you want me to tell you a little more about Darla and Dru, who we're staying with tonight?"

"Yeah," I said with a smile.

"You'll like them," Edward said. "Darla's kind of intense, but she's very passionate about her job and her family. Dru's lighter, kinda flaky, sweet, and unbelievably intuitive."

"I can't wait to meet them," I answered honestly. "I'm just really excited to meet your friends and family. Riley wants to meet you, too, by the way."

I wished I could say my parents wanted to meet him. I was sure they would, but my mom was always so consumed with herself and her crap that she never said things like "I can't wait to meet your new boyfriend, Rose." I'd have to work on making sure they met Edward soon. I did not want him to feel like he wasn't as important to me as I was to him.

"Good," Edward said. "I wanna meet him, too."

We chatted the rest of the way to Cleveland about everything and nothing. Masen made more noises and woke up to turn around, shake, then lay back down to sleep, until we arrived at Darla and Dru's around midnight.

"I hope they didn't wait up for us," Edward said, as he pulled into the drive then leaned across my lap, craning his neck to see if there was movement inside their home.

Masen was awake in the backseat, but he was sitting on his haunches. Then Edward turned his head and looked me in the face briefly before grinning down into the gaping front of my v-neck t-shirt.

"Are you looking down my shirt?" I asked when he made no attempt to go back to his own seat, but instead seemed to be making himself comfortable, leaning against the passenger door.

"What if I am?" he said, slowly bringing his eyes back to meet mine.

We each stared for a few beats, breath and heat and beating hearts building between us in the dark. We had these great moments of pure chemistry, clearly defined and open to engage to their fullest extent. There were never any gray areas with Edward and me. I almost always knew where I stood and what to expect, but when I didn't, I could still rest assured that everything would be just fine.

"Maybe you need to learn some manners," I whispered, slipping three fingers of my left hand under the hem of his black cotton t-shirt, gripping it tight and slow.

His gaze wandered from my eyes down to my lips, over my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, and lingered at my v-neck again, where he dipped one of his fingers and lightly brushed my cleavage.

"If you're the teacher, I'll be the student," he replied with a slow and lingering kiss to my lips.

Masen stood up at full attention, barking, jolting me from my blossoming teacher/student fantasy, and Edward and I both looked out the window to see a petite blonde sauntering toward the car. She wore a patronizing smile, a white tank top, and a pair of gray sweatpants; and she was swinging a glass of red wine in one of her hands.

Edward stayed suspended over me but hit the automatic control to put the passenger side windows down. Masen stuck his head out of the back to sniff and the woman curled her lip at him.

"Hello, Darla," Edward said, looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Edward," she simpered. "Are you going to let your guest breathe, or do you plan to stay attached to her face through the duration of your stay in our fine city?"

"Rose, this is my oldest, dearest friend, Darla Kramer," Edward said as he reluctantly pushed himself off of me. "Darla, this is my girlfriend, Rosalie Hale."

"Edward!" a tall, slim, but clearly pregnant, brunette, who I assumed was Dru, called from the front porch.

"For the  _love of_   _God_ , Drusilla," Darla reprimanded in a stage whisper. "There are people  _sleeping_. And please, put a sweater on before you come out here."

I could tell already that I liked these two. Darla was definitely challenging, but, even through the dark, I could see such honesty and fervor rolling off of her; I so admired that in a person. They seemed a perfect match, too, as Dru waved Darla's chastising aside and floated from the porch straight to the car. Meanwhile, Edward and I climbed out and let Masen out to run around the yard to pee.

"You must be Rosalie," Dru said warmly, walking directly toward me and pulling me into a hug. "It is such a pleasure to meet you."

Dru was tall like me, and stunningly otherworldly in her beauty. She was dressed much like Darla, except her pants looked thinner and she was in all white. I felt bad that they seemed to be ready for bed and it was so late as they waited for our arrival.

"Thank you for having me," I answered. "And thank you for waiting up for us."

"Well, let's get your bags," Darla said, suddenly distracted by Masen, expressing the combination of curiosity and disdain that a person who's never had a dog uses. "Does he… need to… eat, or something?"

"Nope," Edward answered as he came around the back of the Cayenne with our rolling bags trailing behind him. "And don't worry, he won't chew a hole through your antique furniture or anything."

Edward stopped long enough to give Darla a brief peck on the tip of her upturned nose before continuing his stride toward the house. She smirked, trying to stifle a full-on grin.

"Dru." Darla's voice softened. "Come on, honey."

Edward whistled as he neared the door and Masen scurried to follow him inside the house.

"Do you need help with anything?" Dru asked me, as she let Darla gently tug her by the hand.

"No, thank you," I said, slinging my satchel over my shoulder and shutting the car door behind me.

I heard the locks click and looked up to see Edward in the front window, smiling as I followed Dru and Darla to the entrance of the house. Once we were inside, Darla shut and locked the door then murmured something to Dru about catching cold.

"Stop fretting," Dru whispered, but turned and walked toward a closet a few steps away.

Darla turned back to me with worry lingering in her eyes.

"She never listens…" she sighed, shaking her head. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Um… sure," I answered, hoping that Darla was simply being cautious about Dru's pregnancy and that Dru wasn't ill. "I'd love a glass of wine."

Darla led me through the front room where I set my bag down next to a chair just inside the doorway. There was a large, comfy-looking sectional couch in the center of the room holding a rumpled blanket at one end and a book lying face down at the other. The light was dim and music was playing quietly and there was a small boy curled up sleeping on a tiny Aero Bed off to the side of the sectional.

I could picture Dru dozing under her blanket and Darla reading as their son slept quietly on the floor. The image almost brought tears to my eyes—such a safe, warm, and happy home; something I hoped I could have one day.

"Is Cabernet okay...?" Darla asked as she guided me toward the kitchen. "May I call you Rose, or do you prefer Rosalie? Or something else?"

"Cabernet's great, and Rose is fine," I answered, not letting her see how emotional she and Dru's easy and genuine hospitality had made me.

We reached the butler's pantry, just off the kitchen, and Darla pulled a glass from the rack of stemware that was hanging underneath a small wine and liquor cabinet. When Edward found us there, he had a beer. Darla eyed him with an arched brow as she poured a glass of red for me and topped off her own.

"Why am I not surprised that you already have a beer?" she asked. "It's like you think this is your house or something."

She and Edward both chuckled as Edward took a sip from his bottle and draped his arm around my shoulders.

"Edward lived here with Dru and I for about six months while we were renovating and I was pregnant with Connor." She handed me my glass and took a sip of her own, happy memories dancing in her sea blue eyes. "He helped us keep the contractors in line and me from having a nervous breakdown."

She held her glass in front of her, raised, as she nodded. The three of us touched glasses in her tacit thanks to Edward.

"Is there a party in here?" Dru asked, now cloaked in a long cardigan, settling behind Darla, enveloping her in her arms.

"No party," Darla sighed, resting her head back on Dru's shoulder. "Just welcoming our guests. Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"No," Dru answered with a yawn. "I think I'll head up to bed and take the little destroyer with me."

"That poor kid," Edward said. "He breaks one chair and is forever branded The Destroyer."

"Oh, come on," Darla laughed. "It's funny! He's three feet tall and doesn't even weigh 40 pounds."

I laughed along with them, feeling grateful to be part of Edward's circle of friends and family. The trip was starting off better than I could ever expect.

"Let me help you get him up," Darla said to Dru. "You two stay here. If he sees you, Edward, we'll never get him back to sleep."

Dru and Darla disappeared to the front room and Edward turned to me to pull me into a full hug.

"Where's Masen?" I asked, my voice slightly muffled by Edward's chest.

"He's out back," he answered. "I'll bring him in when we go to bed."

I hummed and sighed, relaxing into him as he held me close.

"I like your friends," I said, yawning. "I love this house."

"Yeah, it's great, isn't it?" he said, releasing me then leaning back onto the counter and sipping his beer. "And, yeah, they're really special to me. I can't wait for you to meet Connor tomorrow."

Edward smiled.

"He's adorable," I said, taking a drink of the delicious Cabernet Sauvignon. "How old is he again?"

"Four," Edward answered. "Darla and Dru decided early that they wanted children, so they started right away once they were both done with grad school."

Edward looked me right in the eye, taking a long, slow pull from his bottle of beer. His gaze was full of question, maybe a little doubt.

"They asked me…" He paused and shrugged, not specifying  _what_  they asked him. "But I said no."

I blinked once, slightly stunned. Edward was telling me, without really telling me, that Darla and Dru had asked him to father their children. That was a huge piece of the puzzle that I was definitely not expecting, not that I knew what to expect exactly. It didn't strike me as bad, necessarily, just… surprising.

Before I could respond or Edward could elaborate, Darla came back into the pantry, letting out a deep breathy sigh.

"Okay," she said. "All tucked in. Let's go sit, shall we?"

She snatched up her wine glass then rounded the corner without waiting for our reply. After a beat of charged silence, Edward and I slowly followed her into the front room.

Our drive to Chicago would be an interesting one.


	12. Roadtrip pt. 2

As Darla settled into the corner of the sectional, right where I had imagined she was sitting when we arrived at her house just 30 minutes before, Edward pulled me down to join him at the other end of the couch.

I was having one of those moments when my brain was working overtime to compute the buttload of information that had been given to me. While I sat there attempting to look other than dumfounded, I considered what I had learned.

Darla and Dru had asked Edward to father their children. He had said no, but had stayed with them for six months, helping to run the house and oversee their renovation. All of this I learned, not during our six-hour car ride, but in an off-handed manner as if it was common or inconsequential knowledge.

I wasn't angry, because there was no malicious intent on anyone's behalf, but I was upset for some reason—scattered and a little bit warm around the edges (and not in the pleasant way I was usually scattered and warm when I was with Edward.) I couldn't put my finger on why I was upset, but I felt… like an interloper—out of place and foolish.

Then Edward's arm tightened around me and his fingers trailed over my skin, affectionately, yet I couldn't look him in the eye. I took a deep breath, which always seemed to calm me and help me see things clearly, and I listened to Darla talk about Dru and mention preeclampsia. I closed my eyes and lifted my glass to my lips for a sip of wine, feeling Edward toy with the short sleeve of my t-shirt.

I told myself that Edward wasn't Royce or James or any of those other boys. He had introduced me as his  _girlfriend_  and was taking me to meet his parents. He would never try to hurt me by lying or intentionally withholding important information.

"She just doesn't listen," Darla sighed. "You know how she is, Ed."

"She's independent and determined," Edward replied, continuing to touch me the way he always touched me, with reverence and tenderness, and in a way that was really helping me come back to focus.

"Always the diplomat." Darla rolled her eyes, then took another sip of her wine.

Edward quietly laughed the laugh I loved, the one that made me feel safe and comfy, and I finally got the guts to look him in the eye. What I found… he was looking at me with such adoration, I forgot all about feeling left out. With just one look, I felt like we were the only two people in the room.

"But she  _has_  to be careful," Darla argued, her voice like a Charlie Brown cartoon adult, invading my moment of clarity with Edward. "Her aunt had serious complications and was _bedridden_. Who's to say Dru will be any different?"

Edward didn't seem fazed as he responded, but I was a blur of emotion—delicate and hopeful, and tired from the drive. I just wanted him to take me to bed and hold me; tell me with words that I was crazy for feeling jealous of what he'd had with Darla and Dru.

"You can keep an eye on her, Darla, but that's all you can do," Edward said, slowly taking his eyes from mine to meet hers, but pulling me tighter into his side. "You can't tie her down."

I relaxed into him and rested my head on his shoulder, twirling my glass in my hand and watching the Cabernet cling to the sides. I didn't really want to drink anymore, I just wanted Edward, but the swirl of the liquid was soothing.

"You're right," Darla sighed. "I know it."

She pushed herself up off the couch and stretched her arms above her head then out to her sides before pausing and turning to retrieve her not quite empty glass from the side table. Edward watched with a small smile and sleepy eyes.

"Well, I'm going to leave you two alone and go up to bed," she said. "But you're welcome to more wine, grab something to eat, whatever..."

She approached the side of the couch where Edward and I sat and ruffled his hair. I giggled through a yawn at the maternal gesture.

"You know where your old room is," she said. "I put clean sheets on this morning and opened the windows, but feel free to close them. There's an extra blanket in the closet, too."

Edward slipped his arm from behind me and stood in front of her, towering over her tiny frame. "Thanks, Mom," he joked, hugging her goodnight.

She looked momentarily irritated and slightly inconvenienced. Darla seemed like the type of woman who didn't ever want to appear vulnerable or in need of comfort or kindness. I was sure she rarely allowed anyone to care for her the way I saw Edward and Dru caring for her in the short time we had been there. I could also tell that the extra effort from Edward and Dru secretly thrilled and delighted her.

Regardless of how she may have wanted to present herself, with her guard down, she slowly melted into his embrace, and I was sure I heard her hum quietly on her exhale.

**~DL~**

Edward and I were more tired than I realized as we climbed the stairs, making our way to the guest room. We didn't speak much because of said tiredness, and because we didn't want to disturb Darla and Dru.

He had foisted our bags over one shoulder and was guiding me toward a partially open door from which warm light poured into the hall. From behind me, Edward tapped the door all the way open and encouraged me to go inside.

It was a well-appointed room, as they say, with its own bathroom, a fluffy king sized bed, and a sitting area.

"Oh, my God, I'm gonna sleep  _so_  hard tonight," I whispered, watching Edward set our bags on the floor and close the door behind him.

Masen wandered around sniffing everything in the room before finally finding just the right spot, circling a few times, then curling up on the fuzzy rug at the foot of the bed to rest.

"For such an enormous dog, he sure can make himself small," I joked, still whispering.

Edward crossed the room and pulled me into his arms without hesitation.

"So, you're tired?" Edward quietly asked, rubbing small circles on my back and arms, making me tingle and shiver all over. "I just got my hands on you again, and now you're gonna sleep?"

I was suddenly wide-awake.

"Well… yeah," I replied, pulling away enough to look him in the face. "Eventually."

I grinned, and he grinned back then dipped his head to kiss my lips.

"I hope it doesn't bother you that I introduced you as my girlfriend," he murmured around my lips. "I suppose we should have had a conversation about it first, but it just came out."

I shook my head. "It doesn't bother me. Let's call it," I whispered and licked his lips.

"You're the boss," Edward replied, slipping his fingers up under the hem of my top.

It wasn't long before I started thinking about the teacher/student fantasy that had been bouncing around my brain ever since I caught Edward looking down my shirt in the car and Darla caught us kissing. But because neither of us are total assholes, Edward and I opted to just make out like teenagers after brushing our teeth and changing into pajamas. I fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning when I woke up, Edward was MIA. The bedroom door was closed, but I was tempted by the smell of bacon cooking and the cheerful hum of voices, floating from downstairs.

I rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom to do the things people do after getting out of bed in the morning. After I was done, I dug through my bag for a hoodie and a pair of flip-flops and descended the gorgeously refurbished staircase that I was unable to admire in the dark the night before.

The kitchen was a flurry of activity. Darla was talking animatedly on her cell phone, pacing in front of the open French doors that led to a patio just off the breakfast area, Dru was lounging on the patio with her iPad, and Edward was simultaneously feigning hand-to-hand combat with a small boy I assumed was Connor, while flipping bacon and pancakes with his free hand.

"Good morning," I said.

"Morning," Edward answered, turning down the heat on the bacon and slipping the pancakes into the warmer. "I hope you're hungry."

"Yes," Darla chimed in, dropping her phone to the counter after having disconnected her call. "Since Edward's fried enough bacon to feed an army."

Darla raised an eyebrow at Edward, who stuck his tongue out at her. She stopped in front of him and looked down at Connor.

"Connor," she said before bending down to scoop the tiny boy into her arms. "We need to get you washed up so you can have your breakfast, but first I want you to say hi to Uncle Edward's special friend, Rose."

"Hi," Connor said, staring at my hair and my arms, where I had pushed the sleeves of my hoodie up enough to expose ink. "You have pictures like Uncle Edward and Mama Dru."

"Tattoos, baby boy," Darla gently corrected him, messing with his hair and looking like the proudest, prettiest mommy ever. "Remember how different they are than Crayon and marker drawings?"

"They're permanent, and you have to think about them for a long time," Connor said, sounding like he was repeating something he'd been told more than once.

He looked his mother in the face with the kind of seriousness that only a four-year-old can possess. I imagined Connor using markers to draw pictures on himself and being disappointed that they washed off, and Darla explaining the differences to him.

"Exactly," Darla said, hefting Connor onto her other hip. "Now, let's hurry so we don't let Uncle Edward's yummy breakfast get cold."

Darla excused herself and Connor with a singsong voice as she danced their way around the kitchen. I watched them disappear around the corner to the little half bathroom with a sleepy smile on my face.

"Hi." Edward's voice was soft and warm and close to my ear. "Want some coffee, sleepyhead?"

"Hi," I replied, turning to face him and walking straight into a good morning kiss and hug. "Yes, please."

We had a giant breakfast that was better than any breakfast I'd ever had in my life. Darla and Dru chattered and bickered and coddled and cooed at each other. They were ridiculously adorable.

I watched Edward help Connor with his food, listened to them talk about Masen and Connor's dead goldfish, Spike, and loved how natural and content Edward was with him. He was as comfortable with a small child as he was with the kids at the shelter. Edward was a born caretaker—teaching and nurturing and loving what he learned from that exchange.

I was starting to identify with that, as well, on a level that used to scare me. I used to think it made me weak to want to take care of the stray cats and the dying plants and to fuss over babies; I certainly caught enough shit for it from ex-boyfriends. Royce  _always_  made fun of me for being "such a chick" whenever I'd get excited over seeing a baby.

Yet, there was Edward—total fucking badass, grown man, successful and smart—helping a four-year-old pour syrup on his pancakes and use his fork the safe way.

**~DL~**

"What're you thinking about?" Edward asked after we'd been driving for about an hour with barely a word.

Connor had drawn a picture of me, Edward, and Masen, sitting in the Cayenne, which was now taped to the dashboard, and Darla and Dru had packed us a bag with fruit and bottled water for the road. I was at ease with my own thoughts, nibbling on an apple, but I didn't want Edward to think I was upset about anything.

"You," I answered honestly. "You're just so comfortable with yourself. It's an inspiration."

Even through his aviators, I could see that Edward looked amused and confused and a little bit awkward. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and shifted in his seat.

"Thanks," he muttered and bit his lip. "That's a big compliment."

I wished I hadn't made Edward uncomfortable. I remembered the last time he gripped the steering wheel and shifted in his seat like that; it was when he  _wasn't_  so confident about kissing me and asking me out.

"I didn't mean to make this conversation awkward," I said, laying my hand on his knee. "I just appreciate your approach to things. You've taught me a lot."

"Well…" Edward glanced over at me then back at the road with a soft smile. "You've taught me a lot, too."

The little pep talk I'd given myself before Edward had picked me up for our trip popped back into my head. I had decided then that I would enjoy this and trust him; and it was a good trip so far, no matter what I'd learned about fathering children and house renovations. Edward had told me as much about Darla and Dru as he could without creating a giant drama out of all the facts. Bottom line, Edward had been a lot of things to a lot of people, but now he was with me. And every moment we were together meant more and more.

We held hands most of the rest of the way, except for gas stops and bathroom breaks. When we finally got to the Chicago area, Edward stopped at a liquor store and picked up a bottle of wine. He said it was his mom's favorite.

"I'm sure she has plenty in stock," he said. "But  _it never hurts to bring a gift_."

The last part he uttered in a falsetto, which I assumed he was using to mock advice that was once (or several times) given by his mother.

"Good advice," I assured him, patting his hand, and we both laughed.

Ten minutes later, we were pulling into the half-circle drive in front of the Cullens' home. Ours was the only car in the drive, so I looked around for a garage.

"They aren't here," Edward announced with a sigh. "Big surprise…"

"Again with the sarcasm," I said, as he unbuckled his seatbelt to get out of the car. "And that isn't me reprimanding you; that's me recognizing that you're upset. It's okay, ya know?"

"Thanks," Edward let out another, heavier sigh. "They just…" He shook his head. "I just wish they'd have been here to greet you, that's all."

"Yeah," I said, running my hand up over his arm and shoulder and into his hair, watching his jaw clench and unclench. "But we'll have brunch tomorrow, right?"

Edward had explained to me that Sunday brunch was a big deal in their family, but since we weren't due to get into town until late afternoon, and his parents had dinner plans, Caroline, his mother, had postponed the family brunch until Monday morning.

"With Bloody Marys and Mimosas!" Edward mocked enthusiasm,then leaned his head into my hand and closed his eyes, seeking comfort.

"Well, I for one could use a shower," I said, gently massaging his temple and jaw. "Especially if we're meeting some of your other family members tonight."

Edward had decided to take me to The Oven, a neighborhood bar and grill that was owned by his Uncle Eleazar and Aunt Carmen. He said he'd practically grown up there. I was looking forward to seeing it.

We showered and fed Masen, then left him outside in the backyard to chase squirrels and lounge on the patio furniture. Then hopped in a cab to The Oven, where everyone knew each other's vital statistics, and every woman in the joint about lost her shit when Edward walked through the door.

"Edward Cullen, you little brat!" A woman with the absolute wrong color of lipstick, but the biggest, warmest smile flew across the room toward us. "I didn't even know you had decided to move until Tanya told me."

Edward tried to play guilty and apologetic, but couldn't suppress his grin as he grabbed the woman and hugged her tight.

"Aww, Aunt Carmen, don't be mad," he said. "You know I can't stay away from you."

"You flirt," she responded with a smack to his chest. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"This is Rosalie, Carmen," Edward answered with a proud smile. "My girlfriend."

"Rosalie," Carmen said, unwinding herself from Edward's embrace. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Carmen looked me up and down appraisingly, and I wondered what she was seeing. Not that it mattered much, but it suddenly occurred to me that we were in a place where many of the people were sure to have known, or currently knew and loved, Siobhan. I braced myself for scrutiny and judgment and reminded myself that I was with Edward, he wanted me there, and no matter what, I would never be Siobhan.

"Eddie." A male voice entered the mix. "Good to see ya, kid."

"Zar." Edward greeted him with a hug. "Good to see you, too. This is Rosalie."

Edward's uncle smiled and welcomed me into his bar, looping an arm around Carmen's shoulder and kissing her cheek.

"The girls are in the back," Eleazar told us. "They'll be happy to see you."

I spotted the beautiful, intimidating cousins across the room before Edward was able to introduce us. He nodded to Eleazar and Carmen, then turned to walk us through the restaurant.

We were bombarded about nine times by women, ranging in age and intention, and men who Edward seemed to know very well. He introduced me to everyone and no one made a secret of openly checking me out. It was like my worst nightmare, except I didn't freak.

Six weeks ago, my heart rate would have spiked and my ears would have buzzed with anxiety. I would already be feeling them judging me, deciding I wasn't good enough for their friend/cousin/nephew and shutting me out with sweet smiles and coquettish voices.

Funny how trust and getting real with yourself changes the way you see things.

We came to a stop in front of the booth and the women squealed and wiggled their way out of to greet him. Once the chaos had settled, Edward spoke.

"Róisín," Edward said with a lilt in his voice and that small, mischievous grin I loved so much, as he eyed the three women. "These are my cousins: Tanya, Kate, and Irina. Ladies, this is Rosalie."

I waved and smiled. His cousins smiled politely in returning, each verbalizing greetings in varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"She got me the job at the youth shelter, where I've been teaching self-defense classes?" Edward placed a hand on the small of my back, propelling me toward them.

All three women spoke at once, grabbing and pulling me into the half-moon shaped booth and into their little group.

"Rosalie, I'm Tanya," said the glamazon closest to me, patting the seat beside her as she slid into place. "Have a seat right here and let's get you a drink."

" _Ohmygod_ ," the woman on the other side of Tanya said, lurching forward conspiratorially. "Have Daniel and Caroline totally driven you to the edge yet?"

I shook my head at her question and laughed. "They were out when we got here, so I haven't met them yet."

"I'm Kate, by the way," Kate said, extending her hand. "Since Edward didn't bother to indicate which of us was which."

Kate teasingly glared at Edward as he shoved his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. He looked down at his shoes then back up at us all; shy little boy, being taunted by his older cousins. I could tell by the pink on his cheeks and twinkle in his eyes that he was used to it and was capable of playing right back.

"You can run along now, little Prince, your girl's in good hands," Kate continued to tease. "We'll get her good and hammered so she'll wake up with the appropriate level of need for the Queen's signature Bloody Mary brunch in the morning."

Kate cackled and Tanya laughed lightly, while the third cousin, Irina, simply rolled her eyes once and swirled her drink in its glass.

"T?" Edward looked to Tanya, pleading.

"We won't get you too drunk, don't worry," she told me, laying a hand on my forearm then looking back at Edward. "But, seriously, Edward, let her have some girl time. We'll keep her in one piece."

He gave her the I-don't-trust-any-of-you smirk and she winked back at him. Then he stood up straight and said, "Behave."

Tanya was the big sister and pulled me under her wing, Kate was snarky and sassy, and Irina was quiet and serious. Each of them was open and welcoming, though, in her own way. Their dynamic was definitely  _family_ , no doubt, but also  _community_ ; I felt at home with them.

During a round of drinks and breaking the ice, Kate filled me in on the neighborhood gossip.

"You probably figured out Carmen and Eleazar are our parents," Kate stated, eyeing me and sipping her martini.

I nodded. "Edward told me before we got here."

"Okay, what else can we tell you?" Kate's gaze darted around the room then landed at the bar where Edward was talking with a few guys. "Ohhh…"

Tanya and Irina turned their gaze in the same direction, and all three sisters were visibly aghast with what they saw. They seemed to all stare at one reasonably good-looking man in the group. He had red hair, blue eyes that I could see from 10 yards away, and he was somewhat imposing in stature and poise. The guys' conversation seemed to be relaxed, but Kate expressed concern.

"What that fuck is Edward thinking?" she hissed.

"Chill, Kate," Tanya said, her concern clear as she glanced around the room as casually as possible. "They're just talking."

"The last thing anyone wants-"

"She isn't here," Irina cut Kate off with three words and a glare.

"Who?" I asked.

I had  _that feeling_. You know the one that you get when you know exactly what everyone's talking about, even though they aren't saying it, yet there's no way you could possibly know, but you do? I just needed one of them to confirm it.

"Siobhan," Tanya said then looked at me, examining my facial expression, gauging whether or not I knew about Siobhan.

"Is that Siobhan's brother or something?" I asked.

"Uhh, no," Kate said. "He's her dealer turned boyfriend… or  _whatthefuckever_. I cannot believe Edward isn't pummeling his ass into the ground."

"Siobhan's history, Kate," Tanya said, terse and quiet. "Drop it."

Then Tanya smiled at me, apologetic and nervous, trying to keep things smooth. I watched as that unmistakable family dynamic I recognized when I sat down did its thing.

"She's a fucking disaster, Tanya," Kate said, flagging down our server for another round of drinks. "And Edward busted his ass and practically went bankrupt for her! She ruined his life. And  _that_  asshole-"

"Calm the fuck down," Irina muttered, interrupting Kate once again. "Nothing's that simple."

Kate shot her a dirty look.

Irina didn't say much, but what she said was heard loud and clear.

I felt tension, but I also felt history and details lingering that I was sure I'd never know. It didn't matter, though. I knew this kind of showdown. I'd had it with Alice and Emmett over Royce. I could almost see it play out; Edward defending the woman he loved, breaking the hearts of his family and friends, extricating himself from the people he loved.

Kate took a deep breath and a quick look over her shoulder again, then shook her head and looked down at her hands.

"Sorry, Rose," Kate said, looking back up at me. "I don't need to pull you into the town drama. Tanya's right; Siobhan's history."

"S'ok," I shrugged. "Edward told me about Siobhan. We've all got baggage."

Tanya laid an arm around my shoulder and gently squeezed. "Edward kinda clued me in; I hope you don't mind."

I was surprised, but it didn't bother me. I knew Edward and Tanya must have been close if he were to tell her about Royce. I trusted that Edward would treat any descriptions of me with dignity. I was actually pretty flattered that he had talked so much about me to so many people he cared about, and that Tanya was as accepting as she was.

The redhead didn't stick around long after we spotted him and Kate had her mini freak-out. Edward sauntered over to our table with a full pint of Guinness in one hand and a bowl of peanuts in the other.

"We should order somethin' to eat," he said as he wedged his way inside the booth with the girls and me, slopping a bit of stout on the table in the process. "This is my third beer and I don't know if I even wanna know how many beers you've had…"

He pursed his lips and eyed me playfully. I glared at him just as playfully and set the record straight.

"This is only my second," I answered, lifting my almost full pint glass to show him. "But I'd love some of that pizza you raved about last week."

We ordered three medium pizzas and devoured them, while Kate continued her commentary on the bar patrons. I had such a great time with his cousins and met a few other friends and neighbors as Edward slowly got closer and cozier and handsier.

"You guys need to get a room," Kate laughed finally. "It was lovely to meet you Rose, but I kinda don't need to see  _more_  of you, if you know what I'm sayin'."

We finished our beers and paid the tiny bit of tab that Zar and Carmen would allow us to pay, and Sasha, the bartender, called us a cab. We giggled and groped and kissed the whole way home.

**~DL~**

Edward's parents were already sleeping and it was dark when we got back to the Cullen's house. The light from the moon was spilling in through his bedroom window, casting everything in blue. We were both flushed and warm from the cab ride, so the cool light had a welcome effect. I felt simultaneously invigorated by it and bathed in calm.

The last few days had given me a new kind of focus. While I always knew I was good in bed and desirable, I had come to accept that Edward wanted me.  _Me_. All of me-my voice, my breath, my body. He didn't just want to fuck me, and of that I was sure and grateful.

So I wanted to show him what I was made of on all levels. We had spent time talking and sharing stories. We had made love. Tonight, I wanted to show him my passion and what lie in my inner depths to go after what I wanted. Tonight I was going to do something I'd never done before.

I pushed him back against the wall and lay my hand on the closing door to ensure that it was shut and latched. I didn't want any interruptions, no matter how much Edward protested that his parents wouldn't dare intrude on his privacy.

My fingers were cool as they left the wood of the door and sought out his bare skin. I hooked my hand over the front of his jeans and his belly almost burned my fingers, he was so hot. Edward hissed at the contrast, and I dragged my other hand across the plaster of the wall and into his hair as we kissed.

"Mmm…" he moaned around my tongue as he let me invade his mouth.

I could feel how hard he was through the denim of his pants and my skirt. I wanted to harness him and make him mine, ride him like a bucking bronco.

I yanked at the waist of his jeans to pull him away from the wall, then spun us so I was walking him backward into the room. I stopped and scanned the space for something…

"There," I said, letting go of him completely and pointing to a chair near a desk against the wall.

I imagined Edward sitting at that desk as a precocious and sinfully beautiful 18 year-old boy, filling out applications for college. I was the young tutor, or the nanny, who would help him become a man.

"Pull that chair in the center of the room," I said.

Edward hesitated, but when I looked into his face, I saw heat glimmering in the moonlight. He grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes before taking two long steps to the desk and dragging the chair around to face me.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered in barely more than a whisper.

One of his hands ran over the top rail of the straight back chair and the other ran over his mouth and jaw. He never took his eyes off me as I laid out the whole scene in my head and my breath rushed in and out of my chest at a rate I didn't recognize for just standing still.

"Take your shirt off," I said as I stepped back away from the chair, so I could get a better look at everything I wanted to see. "Then unbutton your pants and sit on the chair, facing me."

Edward moved unhurriedly, but didn't hesitate. Our eyes were glued to one another and our breathing was matched. He tossed his shirt to the side and unbuttoned his pants just like I'd asked as he rounded the side of the chair to sit.

"And the zipper," I added. "Unzip them, but don't pull them down."

He licked his lips and unzipped his jeans at an agonizing pace of leisure before finally sitting down on the wooden chair.

"Spread your legs," I whispered and watched.

He was so fucking beautiful, perfectly decorated and perfectly male. His closely cropped hair was a disaster of my doing. His face told the story of our lust-filled ride home and his anticipation of what would come next. His shoulders were broad and sculpted, and adorned with pictures and stories that spread over his arms, all the way down to his hands that hung loosely at his sides. His hard chest and belly rose and fell with his rapid breaths, and I trailed my eyes over the light dusting of hair that led to what I wanted, what I had asked him to expose to me.

Edward complied with my request, spreading his legs as he squirmed in his seat. I pulled my gaze from the fantastic sight before me and scanned the room once more for the one thing that would make this scene complete.

 _Private school…_ I thought, as my eyes halted on his closet and the uniforms within.

I looked at Edward and said, "Stay."

He shuddered and swallowed, briefly closing his eyes before nodding in agreement.

I walked swiftly to the closet and pulled a tie from a hanger, and before I knew it, I was kneeling behind Edward's chair, tying his wrists together. An unwelcome flash of a drunken night with Royce tried to sully the moment, but I shook it away, because Edward was there with me.

Edward, who trusted me and wanted me, who was letting  _me_  have  _my_  way.

"My two best friends in my childhood neighborhood were Boy Scouts," I explained as I stood and walked around the chair to face him again. "They taught me how to tie knots… Does it feel okay?"

I lay my hand on his shoulder and traced one of the patterns there, then came to a stop with my knees on either side of one of his. Edward looked up at me with eyes on fire, jaw clenched, nostrils flared.

"Okay?" I asked again, wanting reassurance that what I was seeing was him turned on and not pissed off.

He nodded tight and quick and licked his lips again and squirmed some more. I looked down into his lap and had my full answer. His cock was bulging through his boxer briefs, peeking from the open fly of his jeans.

It would have been so easy to kick my panties off and straddle his lap, ride him until I came as many times as I wanted. But that was just my fantasy running away from me, and I wanted something more than an orgasm.

I was standing close to him, my hands on his shoulders and my belly in his face. I wanted him to use his mouth on me, so I got rid of my shirt and tossed it away to join his. I stood closer then and guided his head to where I wanted it.

"Use your tongue and your lips." My voice came out of nowhere, as bold as my actions.

As much as I knew I gave good head and could please a man, I had never asked for what I wanted quite like this. Edward gave me this. Or, maybe, he inspired it, and then got the hell out of my way so I could express it. Whatever the case, I was thankful and I was going to fucking show him just how thankful I was.

His mouth was on me, warm and wet. He kissed and licked, scraped his teeth over the low curve of my belly, just above where my jean skirt sat. That curve usually looked like a roll of fat to me, but Edward's lips made it feel like sex and power.

His shoulders shifted and he groaned when he bit my hipbone. I kept my hands in his hair, guiding his head like a planchette on a Ouija board, looking for answers or hidden messages. I watched him twist and turn as he made my skin glisten in the blue light.

"You wanna touch me, don't you?" I asked, pulling his head back by his hair.

He was breathless and droopy-eyed when he nodded.

"Yes," he hissed and hiccupped air into his lungs. "You're so beautiful, Róisín."

I smoothed his hair away from his brow and cradled his face in my hands. He was sweating and shivering, shirtless and hard. He wanted to touch me.

"Not yet," I said, stepping away from him to lose my skirt.

I kept my boots on because they made me feel safe—not that I needed protection from Edward, but I needed training wheels or something, because I'd never been the one in control. I loved how I felt right then, though. I wasn't thinking about how I looked or what Edward thought about my thighs, I was just feeling everything.

Like Edward's eyes raking me from head to toe as I swaggered toward him again. I touched myself where he'd been kissing and licking and biting me. My skin was still a little bit damp and cool.

"You made me all wet, Edward," I said.

It was clichéd, at best, but he groaned again and I loved that sound.

I finished my journey back to his lap, widened my stance, and swiveled my hips until he was snug between my thighs where I stood. The roughened cotton of his jeans brushed the insides of my thighs as I began to dance for him. I balanced myself with my fingers on his shoulders and sporadically grazed his upper body with my hips.

Edward had dropped his head back. He was watching me through slanted eyes and breathing so heavy. My hands left his shoulders and went to my own to pull the straps of my bra down. My fingers pulled the cups down, too, to show him what was underneath. He'd seen it all before, but I think he liked the way I was showing him. I know I liked it.

"I want your mouth on me again," I said, pinching my hard nipples and cupping my breasts. "You're so good with your mouth."

I braced my hands on the back of the chair, behind his shoulders, and leaned forward, letting him take one of my nipples into his warm mouth. I almost cried out. I brought a knee up and placed it between his legs.

"God," I whispered, leaving one hand gripping the chair tight and using the other to tightly clutch the back of his head.

His lips and teeth worked my breast as I lowered my body to grind on his hip. The waist of his jeans bunched between my legs, against the thin silk of my panties, and his warm body leant me just enough friction.

"Yes…" I gasped, scraping my fingers over his scalp.

I was rubbing up on him like a bitch in heat and I didn't fucking care because his lips were sucking me just right and my pussy was throbbing and I was coming hard against him.

My body buzzed from my eyebrows to my fingertips and toes as Edward hummed against my chest and I sat fully in his lap. He was obviously ready for more, but he didn't rush me; he let me bask in the afterglow.

"Good?" he whispered, kissing my collarbone and my neck.

" _So_ ," I replied, turning my face to catch his lips with mine. "I can't even…"

We kissed, and I felt so much. I felt him smile and I felt his heartbeat. I loved his heart; so big and open. I wanted his arms around me.

"I suppose I should untie you now," I said, giggling, a tiny bit of embarrassment creeping into my voice.

"Only if you want to," Edward said. "Because I will not ever complain if this is what I get when my hands are tied."

I grinned as I climbed off his lap and discarded my bra, then went around the chair to untie him. He immediately extended his arms in front of him, stretching his muscles and circling his wrists to bring the circulation back. I dropped the tie to the floor and bent at the waist beside his chair to take my boots off.

"Do I get to touch you now?" he asked.

I stood and kicked my boots to the side before walking around in front of him and dropping to my knees between his legs. I was ramping up again and now I wanted to see him come.

"Yes," I answered, pulling his boxer briefs out of the way. "Touch me any way and anywhere you want."

I sat back with his bare cock in my hands. Before he could touch me, I swirled my tongue around his head then took him in my mouth. With one hand I held him, lightly thrusting between my lips and my other hand entwined with one of his, settling on the edge of the chair, giving us both more leverage, letting me fuck him with my mouth that much better.

"Fuck." His voice was hoarse and his free hand slipped up under my hair and gripped the back of my head.

I felt him bump the back of my throat and I relaxed, letting him all the way in, letting go of his cock and grabbing the other side of the chair, opposite where our hands were. That gave me even more leverage, and with his hand in my hair…

"Fuck," he whispered again, desperate and harsh. "I'm gonna come…"

I appreciated the warning—so many guys just come or pull out so they can come on my tits—because I loved that I could choose what to do for him. I knew he had issues with the blowjob situation, so I wanted to reassure him that I liked it. A lot.

I let go of the chair as I pulled my mouth off of him and gripped him firmly, coming up to a full kneeling position in front of him. We kept holding hands, while I stroked him with my other hand and he gripped my hair tight.

He threw his head back and his mouth open, his eyes were closed, but I could see his eyelids flutter like butterflies. He was panting hard and loud as he came on my throat and collarbone and breasts with that sexy motherfucking groan. I'd never enjoyed that act nearly as much as I did right then, watching him come with utter abandon.

Edward's grip loosened on my hair and he dropped his chin to his chest, rolled his head to the side and looked at me with a lopsided grip, cradling my jaw in his hand. His chest was heaving and covered with a light sheen of sweat. I watched him lick his lips and bite them— _God_ , it made me so wet when he did that.

"I think I learned my lesson," he murmured. "Now it's your turn."

He was out of the chair and I was on my back in the center of the bed in a flash. I pushed myself up on my elbows and watched Edward through my bent knees, watching me and shucking his shoes and socks and pants. He stalked toward me naked and perfect.

I lay back and spread my arms and waited for him to teach me something new.


	13. Meet the Cullens

"You know…" Edward slowly climbed onto the bed and up toward me. "I don't really have a specific lesson to teach you. I just wanted to get you on your back."

I grinned and stifled a giggle; I didn't want his parents to hear us.

"And between your legs." He continued the soft lilt of his teasing words as he settled down right where he said he wanted to be. "Such gorgeous legs, Róisín."

Every guy I ever knew who was interested in pussy, including gay-as-a-picnic-basket Riley, had said similar things to me—dirty things that were probably meant to be playful but ended up sounding like something out of a porno, not  _sweetdirty_  like Edward sounded.

He dropped a light whisper of a kiss to my lips and propped himself on one elbow, weaving his other hand into my hair. I spread open wider to accommodate him, feeling warm and snug, my legs wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

"You teach me something new every day," I said, smiling and purring into his touch.

He hummed and kissed and caressed, nipped and licked. His eyes were soft when he pulled back to look me in the face, and his body was hard. He slowly thrust against me and I felt my blood heat and pump rapidly through my veins and heart.

I groaned and thrust up to meet him, but he rolled his hips away from where I wanted him, teasing me, not letting me have him the exact way I wanted. He bit his lip to stop the mischievous smirk, but his teeth couldn't stop a chuckle emitting from his nose and mouth. He dropped his head to the crook in my neck and ran his lips along my throat.

I moaned, letting my hips rise and fall in time with his, wanting him inside me, squeezing him with my thighs and stroking his back and arms, feeling the colors and patterns under my fingers.

"Please…"

"You don't have to beg," he whispered, kissing my skin and shifting his weight. "I'll give you anything you want; all you have to do is ask."

When his lips met mine, he slipped inside, low and light, exquisitely gliding along the edges of my sanity. He kept kissing me as he deliberately gripped my hip. He kept kissing me when he quietly pushed himself up to reach across the bed to the condom at our side.

His eyes didn't leave mine as he tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth and one hand. He was pinning me with his stare and the gentle abrasion of his cock  _just inside_. When he reached down between us, I felt my face contort in frustration because I knew he was going to pull out, and I couldn't bear it.

"Don't," I gasped.

His brow furrowed, his eyes lit, and he grit his teeth—that intensity of his that was always right at the forefront but never in your face, hanging thickly between us like a sticky mist, holding us together. He didn't stop staring and he didn't stop slipping in and out of me. He kept the thin, slick, agonizing pace.

"Are you gonna come?" His breath and voice rasped in the air.

I nodded frantically and breathed just as heavily, rolling my eyes in the back of my head and opening my legs a little wider with my hands at my knees. I felt his hand drop heavily next to my hip on the mattress and his forehead met mine with a huff of air.

"Fuck," he whispered, strained and edgy, barely holding on, swimming in the shallow end. "Come on…"

His restrained energy, the subdued power of his body and thrusts, were fine-tuned into an acute pinpoint of unimaginable bliss. I lay spread before him, open and vulnerable, coming harder and longer than I ever had in my life.

**~DL~**

"Eggs Benedict, Rosalie?"

I had never disliked my name so much as when Caroline Cullen said it. And she just wouldn't stop saying it. She hadn't uttered one sentence to me in the 45 minutes (and her two mimosas) we'd spent together without saying  _RRRozzzalieeee_  to distinctly address me. She placed an inordinate amount of emphasis on the R and slurred over the S, making it sound especially Z-y, then pulling it all up at the end with a particularly sharp rise of the E. It made my skin crawl.

I nodded my head, though, because,  _why should I deny her offer of delicious hollandaise just because she's a judgmental bitch_? Although, I did make a firm decision to cut back on the champagne so the bitch comments didn't unintentionally spill out of my mouth.

I felt Edward's hand on my knee as I pushed my flute to the side. When I looked him in the eye, images and feelings from the previous night of him touching me in other, more intimate ways floated through my mind.

_I was breathless and sweating from coming. I realized he was rolling a condom on, then guiding himself all the way inside me. He dropped to his elbows with a sigh and hovered above me momentarily before he began to thrust in earnest._

_"So good," he muttered. "You feel so good right after you've come. You always feel good."_

_He looked so beautiful above me; his decorated arms and shoulders were tense and flexing and his face was flushed and full of passion. He threw his head back and his mouth was open wide, smiling and infectious. I hugged him with my legs and ran my hands over his chest and abs as he thrust and throbbed inside me._

"Well, at least she has a healthy appetite," his mother muttered under her breath, bringing me out of a daydream about the things that her son did to my body with his. Then I realized she was doing that backhanded compliment thing that the bitchiest of bitches have down pat.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen," I said, grabbing my recently abandoned beverage, since what I was about to say wouldn't change a bit no matter how much I had to drink. "I do have a healthy appetite. Your son certainly seems to appreciate it."

She and I locked eyes. The comment garnered me an expression of disgust from her, an arched brow from her husband, and a near-miss Bloody Mary shower from Edward since he was innocently enjoying his beverage at the time.

Edward's cousins had enlightened me to how his mother had bullied her sons and husband through the years. They'd told me how terrified they'd all been of her and how she'd intimidated every girl the boys had dated. While I found her quite rude, she didn't intimidate me.

"Well," she said. "That's…  _sweet_."

I smiled sweetly and Edward cleared his throat. I looked at him to see that he was grateful, amused, and maybe even a little turned on.

"Yes, it is," Edward agreed with a grin and a squeeze of my thigh. "I'd like a little more Benedict, too, Mom."

Edward's mom served him more eggs. I thought about what Esme had said about her—that she was difficult, but deep down, she just really loved her sons. I held that in my mind to help get me through the rest of the meal.

The remainder of brunch was awkward for me for a lot of reasons—not least of which was I couldn't stop thinking about the night before in Edward's bedroom. I could not even imagine what his mother would think if she had known what we were doing, or if she'd heard us, but the images and feelings were so powerful that I couldn't avoid them.

My mind warred with those thoughts of pleasure and triumph—we'd enjoyed and celebrated each other so fully, and without apprehension, something I'd never ever done with anyone—and thoughts of Edward's hostile relationship with his parents. Still, while it hurt my heart that Edward was in a less than ideal place with his mom and dad, it warmed my heart that he stuck by my side through his mother's criticisms and his father's apathy; never once did he try to side with her or fade into bland ennui with him.

"I wanna take you to the pizza place where I used to work," Edward mumbled into my neck as his hands fumbled under my t-shirt.

We had finally lost his parents somewhere between mimosas and Irish coffee, and were making out in the kitchen pantry in the back of the house.

"Right now?" I asked. "And, why are we making out in the pantry, by the way? Your mother's gonna kill me if she finds us here."

"Like my mother ever comes to the kitchen." Edward snorted. "Yes, right now. I'm hungry. We'll take a cab. You like pizza, right?"

"Of course I like pizza, but we had it last night…" I sighed with his lips against my skin. "Also, your mom must come to the kitchen sometimes; you told me she bakes those awesome cookies."

I pulled away from him a little bit to get his attention. I didn't want to have a therapy session over Mommy and Daddy, but I also didn't want him pretending that she was something she wasn't. I couldn't solve his problems, he'd have to do that on his own, but I sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and watch him lie to himself about them.

He chuckled lightly. "Boy, you don't forget a thing, do you?" He looked embarrassed.

"Do you expect me not to remember you talking about baked goods?" I teased.

He sighed and slouched against the wall, rubbing his forehead. I didn't know what the barrier was with his parents—typical rebellion, miscommunication, resentment over past misunderstandings that were yet unresolved—but regardless, Edward loved and honored his parents; otherwise he wouldn't think it necessary to bring me to meet them. I wanted him to try and remember the good things.

"Okay, you got me," he mumbled and grinned shyly. "She's not  _terrible_."

"Wow, you're so generous!" I said, smoothing the placard and straightening the cuffed sleeves of his shirt, tickling the ink on his forearms. "She can't be  _too bad_. She was partly responsible for creating you and Carlisle, right?"

I understood having a difficult time with your mother. I understood it well, but I hated to see Edward beat himself up over her misgivings.

He nodded in acquiescence and that look was back—the one that told me he was thankful and kind of turned on. Then he pushed himself away from the wall and tugged at my wrist.

"Come eat pizza with me," he grinned. "We'll make out in the cab on the way there."

I grinned and felt a flush cover my face, neck, and chest. I was hungry, too; even though we'd had a large brunch, Edward and I had been doing a lot to work up our appetites.

"Okay." My voice broke when I giggled at his giddy enthusiasm to show me his favorite pizza place.

Edward called a cab and I grabbed my bag on the way out the door. We didn't actually make out in the cab on the way there, but we remained playful, until I hit another sore spot.

"Who was the red headed guy you were talking to last night?"

"Who, Liam?" Edward was perplexed.

"I didn't catch his name, but Kate mentioned she was surprised you were talking to him..."

I remembered the other cousins' reactions and judging by Edward's current reaction, I probably should have never brought it up. But there it was.

"She did, huh?" Edward turned to face the front of the cab and clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, but... no one made a big deal," I lied. "I just wondered..."

I wanted to kick myself for poking at him again. It was like Dr. Inara had possessed me and I was trying to uncover all of his scars and bruises in one fell swoop.

"He's Siobhan's boyfriend," Edward answered. "And her dealer."

His tone reminded me of the night we had dinner at Carlisle and Esme's. The night he told me about rescuing Masen from a coke dealer. Everything started to fall into place in my head as the tension in the car started to rise.

"Oh," was all I could muster, my mind spinning for something sensitive or compassionate to say.

"I mean, what? Am I supposed to make a scene when I see him?" Edward asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, making his hands into fists. "Siobhan isn't exactly my business anymore."

"It's okay, Edward." I started to backtrack because I realized I had stumbled ungracefully into something that wouldn't be as easy to get out of as the discussion about Edward's parents. But I wasn't sure how to stop the landslide. "I shouldn't have said-"

"No,  _Kate_ , shouldn't have said anything."

He was livid and his eyes were on fire. It was so easy for me to forget Edward's temper when he was so gentle with me and touching me and making me feel cherished. Yet his intensity was always there and all he had to do was flip a switch. Right then, every ounce of passion that I was used to enjoying was spilling out like bile.

"She should mind her own fucking business, but she never does," he continued to rant about Kate. "She's still pissed that I sided with Siobhan... and, fuck, what was I supposed to do then?"

He looked to me as if I could answer, as if I knew the details. Not that I needed to know the details; I could imagine the struggle he went through trying to defend the woman he loved and the pain it caused his family and friends. He was furious and heartbroken and almost pleading with me for an answer, but I didn't say a word; I just gave him my hand.

"And now she wants me to do what?" He ignored my offered hand, so I rested it on his thigh. "Beat Liam's ass over my pride? If I didn't beat his ass for selling to Siobhan while we were together, I'm not gonna beat his ass now. I'm not stupid or crazy enough to get myself thrown in jail over some piece of shit drug dealer."

He cocked his jaw and turned his head, staring out the window, breathing heavy. He closed his eyes and started the rhythmic breathing that I was familiar with using to calm my own anxiety.

_Thrown in jail?_

Edward was a black belt, a deadly weapon. He'd drop that guy in one second flat. And then he'd be in jail.

_Shit._

His restraint with Liam had been niggling in my brain since Kate mentioned it. He seemed so in control, which didn't jive with the guy I'd met so many weeks ago—the guy who was all pissed off about drug dealers and rescue dogs and who called me a party girl and wasn't surprised that I didn't spend a lot of time in computer labs.

That guy had a clear vision of what he thought was right and wrong. That guy was a crusader. That guy was sitting in the back of a cab with me, seething with anger and grief over the wrong that was done to a loved one and the despondency it caused his family. He held back because he knew his physical actions would simply cause more of the same.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off," I said, pulling my hand from his thigh, but staying close to his side. "Or hurt you, so, I'm sorry, but don't pull away from me."

The feeling of disappointing or alienating someone was so familiar to me and my usual reaction was to apologize and make it right. And while I honestly did not intend to disrespect him in any way, I also wasn't about to fall back into my old habits of kissing his ass just to make peace. I wanted him to know I was sorry, but I needed him to know I wasn't going to back away from what I thought was right for him and me.

He shook his head and looked down into his lap.

"I know you weren't," he replied, reaching for my hand. "I have a little... temper, so...  _I'm_  sorry about that. You didn't deserve that."

He looked me in the eye, contrite, squeezing my hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized a second time, and I could tell that he meant it. He was sorry that he'd overreacted and that he'd hurt my feelings, and he was sorry for making me mad.

"Me too," I reiterated, then leaned over to kiss his lips, lingering for a moment. "And I accept your apology."

"I accept yours, too," he responded before claiming my mouth more aggressively, sinking a hand into my hair and pulling me closer to his side..

**~DL~**

We left early on Tuesday morning and drove straight through to Brockport, taking turns at the wheel and with Masen at rest stops. The trip back was uneventful, considering everything that had happened on the way to, and while we were in, Chicago. As a matter of fact, it was almost boring.

As Edward dozed in the passenger seat and I drove across Ohio, I glanced periodically at his face, brow crumpled, and arms crossed over his chest. The events of the past few days had made an enormous impact on our relationship. I'd met his family and friends, we'd had the best sex I'd ever had in my life, and Edward had revealed a side of himself I knew existed but that I didn't see very often. It seemed that he worked hard to keep that side of himself under control, for which I was grateful, but I was also concerned he wasn't being honest or fair with himself.

Edward's presence in my life—the timing, his persistence and perseverance, his honesty and imperfections—had enlightened me about relationships, about how I felt about myself, about how I could impact the lives of others. Even his acknowledgment of who I was to him changed the way I saw things.

As much as I felt we were making headway with each other, I was also aware that I was going to have to make a choice at some point about where I was headed—build a life of my own, isn't that what I'd said? While I was feeling for the first time ever that I was sure I was right where I belonged, that I was invested and engaged in both my job at the shelter and my relationship with Edward, could I just stay?

Riley would give me shit about following a boy. I didn't want to think about what Dr. Inara would say. My guidance counselor would say that I should consider grad school. She'd ask about jobs, if I'd lined anything up. She'd ask where I saw myself in five years.

For the hell of it, I tried to picture myself in five years, and I saw myself at Rosenberg Shelter. I saw myself working with kids. I wanted to do more than I was doing—more along the lines of what Gunn and Wes did, except maybe counseling, too. I wished I could create a position for myself.

I had no idea if Gunn and Wes even had any money in their budget for another position, let alone how much it would pay. Also, wouldn't I need some kind of license to do the kind of work they did? I would definitely need to go to grad school, and I hadn't even taken the GREs yet.

Edward suddenly snored next to me and shifted in his seat, almost as if he were saying "Hey, what about me?" Not that I thought so much of myself that I assumed I was in his future, but I had to consider him. And, if I was honest with myself, I saw Edward in my future, too. Or at least, I wanted to.

But, what about him? Would I be making a mistake to consider him in my future plans? Would I be falling back into my old habit of leaving my future up to a man?

What if there wasn't a job with Rosenberg Shelter, or what if I just decided that it wasn't what I wanted after all? Could I walk away from Edward?  _Should_  I walk away from the first real thing I'd ever known? And, at the end of the day, why would I assume that just because I'm head over heels for him that he feels the same way?

I saw a sign for an upcoming gas station. Since we were running low on fuel, I re-focused my mind on taking the next exit to gas up. As the car began to slow on the exit ramp, Edward and Masen both stirred awake.

"Gas?" Edward grunted.

"Yeah."

He stretched and rubbed his eyes. I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I watched him reach over the seat and rub Masen's head.

"I can take over from here," he said then looked me in the eye. His voice was rough and his eyes were droopy from sleep.

I mentally shook away the previous thoughts I was having because I didn't want to think about anything else but us right then. I wanted enjoy him and the intimate changes between us for the rest of the ride, so I smiled and nodded as I handed him the keys and hopped out of the car.

I used the restroom, splashed some water on my face, and combed through my hair, while Edward filled the gas tank. By the time I exited the restroom, Edward was walking Masen around a grassy area outside next to where he'd re-parked the car. I grabbed a couple big bottles of water to purchase, then made my way to meet the boys.

"Thanks," he said as I approached the car. "I was just coming in to get water."

He stopped me in my tracks by taking one of the water bottles from my hand then wrapping his arms around my waist. He groaned into my neck, as Masen sat on the concrete next to us and scratched at his ear.

"I have half a mind to get a cheap motel in this little town," Edward whispered against my skin, sending shivers down the back of my neck. "Just wanna climb under the sheets with you."

Goddamn _._

"I have class tomorrow," I whispered back, reaching my free hand up between us—not to push him away, but to feel his heart beat through his chest. He had such a strong heart beat. "Early."

I turned and tilted my head and caught his lips with mine. My body responded to him the way it always did, with certainty of want; I  _knew_  what I wanted when I was with him. I just didn't know if it was enough for the rest of my life.

"I know," he said with another groan. "We'll get you there on time."

He pulled away then turned to open the passenger door for me, and the back door for Masen, letting the big lummox hop up into the back seat while I climbed in front.

The rest of the week dragged ass once we got back home, but I kept myself busy with schoolwork and shelter work, and with my brain working over time to not think too much. I was terrified that I would do that thing I used to do—shift into autopilot and leave my fate up to my boyfriend, but, at the same time, I was terrified of losing him.

Ultimately, I decided to keep the recent control I'd gained and directly face whatever life offered me, no matter how hard it might be. I owed it to myself.

"That's quite a step, Rose," Dr. Inara said during our Friday afternoon session, wherein I announced my new revelation to her. "How does it feel?"

"Scary," I answered. "But I'm more aware now, which is a good thing. I don't think I could go back to not being aware, not knowing, just going with the flow."

"Well, we can never know everything," Dr. Inara said with a small smile. "But engaging and being aware of  _self_  is of utmost importance."

I nodded, glancing around the room as she jotted some notes in her book. Then she surprised me with her next question.

"Have you talked to Edward about being scared about your future?"

"Not really," I answered, staring at her in confusion. "I mean, we're open with each other, but the big-picture-future thing is more my thing, isn't it?"

I asked the question because I thought I had been on the right track, but Dr. Inara seemed to have other ideas.

"Yes, but it's also about how you relate to people," she answered, looking me in the eye. "It's about truth and trust. Having faith in yourself and someone else. Staking a claim."

I snorted.

"I think the staking a claim part was the problem before," I said. "Remember when I thought I was gonna marry a guy who was engaged to someone else?"

"That was what you wanted to believe at the time, Rose," Dr. Inara answered calmly, annoyingly serene smile playing on her lips. "But you yourself have told me that deep down you knew the truth. You've said that you knew that Royce wasn't the one."

She was right. I had convinced myself to believe a truth about a man I didn't even know and who didn't know me. I had trusted that everything was going to work out  _just right_ , handing everything over to whoever and whatever, but then, when I have someone I can really trust, someone whose truth I know and who knows mine, I'm scared shitless and trying to convince myself it's all the same.

Talk about falling into old habits.

"It's difficult to truly join your life with another person, especially when you have so much to consider—family, friends, careers—but it's worth it if what you want is a partnership," she said, folding her notebook closed with finality. "You need to decide if Edward is the right person for the job and the only way to know that is through talking to him."

I did want a partnership. I wanted the support and the companionship, the kindness and the security. But, more than anything, I wanted to be loved. I wanted to share my life and joy with someone who understood me and felt passion for me, and the things I cared about. What was suddenly very obvious was that I didn't know I wanted those specific things until I knew Edward.

"I'll talk to him," I said, and Dr. Inara nodded.

"Good," she said.

On Saturday morning, I got up and shredded with that bitch Jillian Michaels. I did some laundry and threw some old Royce-tainted clothes, books, CDs, and knick-knacks into a box as thrift store donations. Then, that afternoon, I worked on my volunteer assessment outline and sent it to Riley for input. All the while, I thought about Edward and what I would say to start our partnership talk when he came over for dinner after the shelter that night.

I liked to cook, but didn't have a lot of practice, yet I was more concerned about my lack of preparedness for the talk. I hoped it would be simple and easy, like it always was when Edward and I had conversations. Sometimes they became heated, but it was always comfortable and surprisingly not scary. Tonight's topic was scary.

I had ogled Edward for two solid hours at the shelter. He was one of those guys who's always smoking hot, even after I'd seen him drool in his sleep and smelled his breath after he'd eaten curry, so watching him teach martial arts to kids barefoot in a thin, white tank top was like a super-ovulation stimulant. By the time we'd put the kids to bed and battened down the hatches, I was on the fence about cooking him dinner and talking about our future versus taking him home and fucking him until we both passed out.

Thankfully, we'd each driven separate cars, so on the way home I realized it'd probably be a good idea if I did what my therapist suggested; I chose to postpone the fucking him unconscious thing until after our talk.

"Want me to open this now?" Edward asked, holding up a bottle of wine and I nodded in agreement.

He had stopped on his way to my apartment to grab a bottle of Malbec. We'd been trying a lot of different reds together lately because he said he wanted to get used to functioning under the influence of red wine in order to avoid future wedding-brawl-like embarrassment, and I just wanted to get a better feel for pairing wines with food.

Edward pulled some glasses from my cabinet, popped the bottle open, and poured us each a serving. While the pasta boiled, I sautéed garlic and onions, browned a little ground sausage, and heated the red sauce. He brought me a glass and we clinked in an informal and silent toast then sipped.

"Mmm," he mumbled. "I like this. Do you?"

"Yeah," I answered, distracted and feeling edgy, and considering slamming the glass to smooth my nerves.

"Can I get some plates ready for us?" he asked. "Or something?"

I shrugged with indecision. I was still standing in front of the stove with a glass full of wine in my hand that Edward had probably spent too much money on for a random Saturday night at my house with sauce from a jar. I flicked my eyes up to meet his gaze and noticed he hadn't missed a beat of my weirdness; he was eyeing me like I might sprout a second head and start singing  _The Lonely Goatherd_.

I turned the burner under the pasta off and the rest of the burners to low and swallowed my anxiety instead of the rest of my wine, then set my glass aside.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

I realized how stupid I sounded. Edward and I were pretty fucking personal at that point. I hadn't really been much more personal with anyone else ever, so when his ever-expressive eyebrows scrunched inward with skepticism at my question, I thought about rephrasing it. Until his voice soothed my concern.

"Of course you can." He set his own glass aside and gave me his full attention. "You can ask me anything."

I took a deep breath.

"You told me once, when we were talking on the phone, that you wanted to have children."

Talking about having children seemed to be as safe a place as any to start the talk.

"Yes…" he said with a small nod and tilt of his head. "But that's not your question, is it, Róisín?"

I paused, searching his face. Edward was so in tune with me. I guessed, I was in tune with him, too, but I was still so  _unsure_.

"I just wondered…" I swallowed thickly, feeling a lump in my throat. "I wondered… why you decided not to help Darla and Dru if you want kids."

A number of emotions transformed his features from concern to surprise to sadness. Finally he settled on timid when he began to answer.

"Well," he said, leaning into the kitchen counter, shoving a hand up into the opposite sleeve of his hoodie, absently scratching the designs on his forearm and elbow. "The first time they asked—five years ago—I wasn't ready. Then, when things went down the way they did with Siobhan…"

One hand went to his hair and the other braced against the counter, white knuckled, like with the steering wheel.

"I just felt like things were in enough tumult in my life as it was. I thought I could wait."

I instantly felt much less anxious but super fucking guilty for putting him on the spot. Again. I wanted to apologize, tell him I was sorry for poking and prodding-

"But ultimately?" He kept talking as he stood up straight, shoulders back, looking me straight in the eye. "I didn't agree to their proposal because when I have kids, I want them with me every day. I wanna live with my kids and learn and grow with them."

He slowly closed the short distance between us, reaching out to touch me. He ran his fingers back through my hair, tucking stray strands behind my ear, just the way I liked. I loved the way he touched me and I loved the way he talked to me; and I hoped that what he was saying wasn't giving me false hope.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, his voice quiet and close, his eyes watching my mouth, his warm fingers resting wrapped around the back of my neck.

"Yeah," I croaked, then cleared my throat. "I think what you're saying is you wanna be able to settle down with a family of your own."

He nodded and took a step closer.

"Róisín?"

"Yeah?" I could feel his heat and his understanding and the meeting of our individual vulnerabilities just before they started to meld into something less fragile.

"I don't know what's goin' on in your head right now," he said quietly, searching my face, shaking his head. "But I'm here, ya know that, right?"

I nodded. "I know that. I just… I'm not sure where we're going with this."

Edward slanted his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes wandering over my jaw and my chest. His forehead was lined with uncertainty, and I hoped it wasn't because he wasn't sure how he felt about me, and I  _really_  hoped it wasn't because he thought I wasn't sure how I felt about him.

"Where do you wanna go with this?" he asked, his hand sliding up into the back of my hair.

As much as I had pondered for days what I wanted and how I felt and what was the  _right thing_  for me to do, what I wanted was him.

"With you," I answered. "But…"

He closed his eyes and my own vision of his face blurred. I felt the first tear hit my cheek and couldn't bring myself to care that I was crying in front of him.

"But?" he asked, opening his eyes again a new fire stirring behind the ashen green.

"I'm scared," I answered, taking the chance that Dr. Inara said I should take. The chance I didn't believe I  _could_  take, and judging by the look on his face right then, hurting him in the process.

"Of what?" he asked, his expression incredulous. "Me? Have I hurt you?"

I knew he was thinking of his fit in the cab and the temper he'd mentioned, and I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him he could never hurt me that way.

"No!" I said, shaking my head and reaching for his retreating form, pulling him close to me again. "Not you, just…" I sighed heavily, gripping the thick fabric of his hoodie and burying my face in his chest. "I'm afraid to make the wrong decision for both of us. I don't have the best track record."

I felt him collapse under me then envelope me in his arms. He was so warm as he brought our bodies flush against each other, calming us both.

"We both have a past," he said. "But I'd like to have a future with you."

I closed my eyes and felt my tears stream over my cheeks and jaw, dropping into the v-neck of my t-shirt.

"You don't think we're rushing things?" I asked.

"No, I don't."

His hands roamed my back, warming and soothing me, mirroring my own hands on his body. I turned my head up to face him. He looked so tired.

"I'm sorry if I stressed you out," I said.

"Fuck," he breathed. "I thought you were gonna break up with me."

We both laughed in relief, and I rested my head against his chest once again.

"I don't wanna break up with you," I said. "I like you too much."

"Good," he said, rocking and cradling me, kissing the top of my head. "'Coz I like you too."

I sniffled a few more times then realized my pasta was getting mushy. I told him we should probably eat, then, so he pulled away from me to search for plates and cutlery and helped me get our dinner ready.

When we finally settled on the couch with our spaghetti and wine, I was exhausted, but so very, very at peace.


	14. Growing Pains

Two weeks after Edward and I got back from Chicago it snowed in Brockport. It was a wet, slushy snow and anyone driving a vehicle of any kind turned into a total idiot.

"Oh, yes, Princess," Riley cooed at the car in front of us as it coasted through the boggy mess of road, brake lights blazing. "Just leave your foot resting  _right on that brake_ ; it's an excellent way to get us all killed!"

Alec clucked his tongue from the backseat. "If your bitching doesn't kill us first."

My eyes shot to where Riley sat fuming in the driver's seat. If he'd heard Alec's jab, he didn't react. I wondered how much longer they'd last. Riley was hard to handle, I knew that from experience, but I really hoped Alec would stick it out.

"Does your boyfriend know we're running late?" Riley asked.

Riley knew Edward's name, but he was clearly being difficult as he often was when he was cranky—unable to express himself clearly and acting out like an infant without words. I almost wished we could reschedule, but then I remembered what a jerk Edward's mom was ninety-percent of the time I'd spent with her and that Edward and I were taking the good with the bad. I had nothing to hide from him, and he wasn't going to judge me for Riley's behavior.

"Yes," I answered. " _Edward_  knows we're running late."

Ten more minutes passed before we finally arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting Edward for dinner. This meeting would prove to be both an introduction and a holiday celebration, kind of the way Edward and my Chicago trip had turned out.

Edward had made it clear to his parents when we left Chicago that he wouldn't be back for Thanksgiving, that he would be spending the holiday in Brockport with Carlisle and Esme and me. I didn't think Caroline was particularly pleased that she wouldn't see either of her sons on Thanksgiving Day, but she appeared to have begun accepting where Edward and I were headed with our relationship. I just hoped that she would some day reach the place Esme had said she was with her—a place where she would suddenly accept  _me_.

"Uch, this weather," Riley said as he parked his precious Caddy in the very back of the parking lot, as far away from any other car as possible. "I guess we'll just have to risk getting pissed on since I am  _not_  taking a chance that some idiot put a scratch or, God forbid, a dent on my baby."

Riley caressed the dashboard, and Alec and I rolled our eyes, as we all loaded up our jacket pockets with our cells phones and wallets. I wished at that moment that I'd brought a hat, but decided that the hood on my jacket would have to do.

Alec and I ran toward the entrance of the restaurant, while Riley lagged behind, smoking and screwing with his phone. When we reached the door, I was relieved to realize I hadn't gotten very wet at all; my hood had given me more than adequate coverage.

Alec opened the door for me and the first thing I saw in the expansive entrance of the hotel and restaurant lobby, what caught my eye and kept it, was Edward. The sight of him warmed what the wet snow outside had just chilled, and I almost giggled at how giddy I felt from just one peek at him in a public place.

He'd just had his hair cut, which is why we hadn't ridden to the restaurant together. It was buzzed and it looked so soft. There was also a damp glistening all over from the snow.

I watched him hand his jacket to the young girl at the coat check then cuff and push up the sleeves on his light blue button down. He was so natural in his proper but untucked and barely buttoned dress shirt over a plain, white tank top. His pants were gray wool and he was wearing black boots.

I had always paid close attention to how guys dressed, mostly because it was often an indication of money and class. But what I liked about how Edward dressed was that everything he wore became second to who he was. Any other guy in the world could wear a random dress shirt and boring wool pants with combat boots and look like a total fucking tool, or lazy, or a poser. Edward, on the other hand, looked like he should never, ever wear anything else.

"Damn," Alec quietly muttered next to me. "Is that him?"

"Yep," I answered with a grin.

I was proud that Alec seemed to think Edward was good-looking, of course, but I was more proud of Edward for other reasons. As he stood in that enormous space filled with hotel and restaurant guests, he oozed the kind of warmth that a lot of men had a hard time conveying with deliberate words or actions. And he was just standing there, silent and barely moving a muscle.

Even though we were getting snow, the few previous days had been beautiful and Edward had spent a lot of time outside, so the naturally fair complexion of his neck and chest had become slightly bronzed. Combined with the vibrant colors on his forearm, his skin radiated next to the light cotton of his shirt.

I watched him run a hand over his clean-shaven jaw and neck as he stood patiently waiting for the girl to give him his claim ticket. When she finally handed it to him, Riley was standing next to me and Alec, then Edward turned toward us and his face slowly opened and brightened with a blinding grin.

"Damn," Riley echoed Alec's earlier remark, and I hoped that just maybe our dinner would run more smoothly than anticipated.

**~DL~**

"They can't come up with a new plot?" Riley asked no one in particular after I had mentioned that Edward and I had watched  _The Hangover II_  the night before. "Or new characters, other than a drug trafficking monkey and a ladyboy?"

Riley's mood hadn't changed much since we'd sat down and our server brought our drinks and appetizers; his ridicule hovered around us, shifting its attention from stupid drivers to stupid movies.

His bitchy attitude was aggravating Edward, I could tell. Alec seemed almost embarrassed, throwing occasional apologetic glances at Edward, which Riley didn't miss. While I wasn't in love with this being the first impression Riley would leave on Edward, I was concerned for Riley. I was wondering what was really going on with him. I was also concerned for where his focus would settle next.

"So…" Riley paused as he filled a small side plate with spinach and artichoke dip and crusty bread. "How long have you two lovebirds been seeing each other?"

I picked up my wine glass and took a sip, bracing myself for interrogation. Edward caught my hesitation and arched his brow.

"Define seeing each other," he asked, never taking his eyes from mine, a small, reassuring smile hugging his lips.

"All right," Riley answered, intently spreading dip on a piece of bread, as if it was one of the most interesting things he'd ever do, as if he wasn't hyper-focused on creating havoc around him. "How long have you been  _sleeping_  together?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Hmm…" Edward fixed his own plate of dip and bread. "A month?"

He looked to me with his brow furrowed slightly in question. I nodded in agreement then took a deep breath when I saw the spark in Edward's eye. He wasn't born yesterday, so Riley's obviously derisive line of questioning wasn't lost on him.

"A month?" Riley feigned surprise. " _Really_ … Is that all?"

I didn't answer Riley's rhetorical question, nor did Edward as he shifted his gaze to meet Riley's, his expression a combination of disbelief and admonition.

"You two seem  _much_  closer than a couple that's only been together for a month," Riley continued, not heeding Edward's glare or any sense of loyalty he may ever have had toward me.

I looked to Alec in hopes that he would somehow intervene, but he simply sat shaking his head and swishing his bread around in olive oil.

"But then again," Riley wouldn't shut the fuck up. "Royce only just died—when was it, Rose?"

"You motherfu-" Edward's temper flared and his hands were fisted on the table in front of him.

"Riley," I interrupted the scene before someone got hurt. "You're being an obnoxious cunt."

I pushed away from the table and stood, then rested my hand on Edward's shoulder and squeezed. He looked up at me—his teeth grinding. I smoothed my hand over his shoulder and down his back before turning to face Riley. I knew I had let this go on too long, so it was beyond time for me to step in.

"Why don't we take it outside?" I asked, as I rounded the table to where Riley sat.

"Róisín." Edward shifted in his chair, his worried gaze flitting between Riley and me.

I didn't know quite how to tell him this was more than what went on at brunch with his mother, and that I knew there was something wrong with Riley. He was always a little prickly, but this was just plain mean.

"We'll be right back," I assured him, then turned my eyes to Alec.

He looked tired, vacant. I briefly wondered if he'd even registered some of the things Riley had said. Not that it mattered, but his lack of interest in our dinner conversation seemed indicative of what was going on, whether it be the cause or an affect of something bigger.

"Yes, we're just going to powder our noses," Riley said as he stood and followed me away from the table and out into the foyer in search of a less public place for us to have it out.

I walked around a corner toward the restrooms and found a small sofa along the wall where I thought Riley and I could try to at least come to a civil enough understanding in order to finish our dinner.

"You wanna tell me what's going on with you right now?" I asked as I turned to take a seat on the edge of the cushions.

"I'm just trying to assess the intentions of your new beau, dear. You should be thankful for that," Riley answered, fumbling with his pockets and looking intentionally bored. "Fucking smoking laws—I could really use a cigarette right now."

"You know what I could use?" I asked. "You dropping your reenactment of the Clinton Impeachment."

Riley sighed as he made himself as comfortable as possible given the situation, finally dropping to the couch and burrowing in.

"How very relevant and witty of you,  _Róisín_." He rolled his eyes. "What the fuck is that, anyway?"

"I'm not telling you, asshole, because you don't actually care," I answered. "Why don't you start telling me some things? Like why you're pretending to defend Royce's memory when you fucking hated him."

Maybe I was going a bit off track with that question, but I was still pissed and hurt that he'd bring up Royce at his first meeting with Edward.

"Honey…" Riley glared. "I couldn't give a shit less about Royce; he wasn't the one for you, but neither is  _that_  one."

"How do you know that?" I was outraged that he would presume to know so fucking much about my current situation when he had only just met Edward less than an hour before.

"You've known each other for a  _month_ ," Riley stated condescendingly, sitting forward, arms bracing on his knees. "Just fuck him and move on. God knows half the dining room wants to."

 _Alec included_ , is what Riley wasn't saying out loud. He was angry and bitter, and my suspicion that things were going south with Alec—that the tension between them was more rigid than usual, and that it wasn't just my recently-embraced awareness of my friends' feelings tipping me off—was becoming very real.

But no matter how much I wanted to support Riley, I had to draw a line.

"He makes me feel good about myself," I said, trying to turn the conversation into something positive. "He's  _nice_  to me—like really fucking nice, and honest and real. And he's smart and interesting and he makes me happy."

Riley inhaled deeply, tilting his head and slowly closing his eyes. He shook his head slightly and chuckled.

"What the fuck, man?" I asked.

I was hurt and confused and I just wanted him to talk to me. In his defense, this was the game we'd always played because I was always too inside my own head to ever really confront him for his behavior. I had never asked him to act any other way, nor had I ever established boundaries. Usually, when Riley would act out, I'd turn tail and run until he was back to the Riley I liked and had fun with. But I was done running from reality and conflict or things that were emotionally challenging.

"Talk to me," I pleaded.

Riley suddenly looked defeated, tired, and sad. He opened his eyes and glanced around the space.

"He makes you feel good about yourself?" he asked, meeting my gaze.

I nodded, and he took another deep breath.

"Rose," he said, exhaling heavily. "Look… I want you to be happy—I do, you have to know that—but I'm not gonna sit by and watch you get your heart torn out again."

I slowly reached for his hand and he entwined his fingers in mine. I believed what he was saying. I knew he loved me and wanted to watch over me, but there had to be more to this. There had to be some kind of impetus for Riley's over-protectiveness.

"Shoot me for trying to protect the only woman I'll ever love." He smirked.

"I love you, too… but  _you_  hurt me tonight," I said, building the boundary that Riley and I had never had. "If you love me, then show me."

"Now you sound like Alec," Riley scoffed.

"Ri..." I squeezed his hand tighter. "I wish that you and Alec would have what I have with Edward."

Riley rolled his eyes and started to pull away from me, but I wouldn't let him.

"No, listen to me," I said. "You can make all the fun in the world at us, but  _I am happy_. And you just said you wanted that for me; now I'm saying I want it for you, so just deal with it."

He stared at me for a beat then did another eye roll and grinned before leaning forward into a hug.

"He's on his way out," he muttered into my hair.

He was talking about Alec, not Edward. I sighed and squeezed him tighter, but didn't say a word. I just listened.

"I'm too much man for him," Riley joked, shrugging into our embrace. "I've always known this."

I wasn't absolutely convinced that Alec was on his way out, but I couldn't deny it either. Regardless, Riley just needed me to be there. I could've sat and held onto him for another hour, but I assumed Alec and Edward were wondering where we were.

"Should we go back to the table?" I asked, gently pulling out of our hug.

"Yeah," Riley agreed. "Before your bodyguard comes after me with nunchucks or something."

I snorted and smacked him on the shoulder.

As expected, Edward was on the edge of his seat, but relaxed considerably when he saw Riley and I returning hand in hand. Even Alec looked relieved, giving me a tiny bit of hope that, maybe, he still cared.

Riley was relatively quiet for the rest of our meal, occasionally glancing across the table at Edward, who kept his hand on me in some way—on my hand, my arm, my shoulder, or under my hair at the back of my neck. When Riley wasn't curiously eyeing the way Edward was touching me, he was watching Alec. A few times, the two of them made eye contact before quickly looking away from each other.

I was careful with how much I drank at dinner, because I had realized some things through Riley's little outburst. I had taken another step toward my goals, and I wanted to talk to Edward about it all when we got back to my place.

I wanted him to know how strongly I felt. For so long, I had felt powerless and hopeless, and my relationship with Royce had simply compounded those feelings, making them things I took for granted.

I could have cowered to Riley's taunting of Edward's and my relationship and my past choices and behavior, but I didn't. I stuck up for myself and for what I wanted, because for the first time in my life, I knew what that was. The contrast between how I would have reacted three months ago with Royce as my dinner companion versus how I reacted after lessons learned and with a strong man who revered and respected me by my side was stark.

The fact was that no matter whose fault it had ever been that I didn't speak my mind when it really counted, no matter who really had  _the power_ , I had always had enough strength to change things. The process of my growing relationship with Edward was simply reinforcing that.

Also, I was finally accepting that I was pissed at Royce—not because he had held so much influence over me, that was my own fault, but because he didn't ever fucking care about me. He didn't care about me like a decent person cares for another human being at all. He cared about me like a person cares about a possession like a bike or a car, but he had no idea, nor did he care to discover, what I felt or wanted.

The more I thought about it, I was mad at myself as well. I started feeling a little bit sorry for myself, even. All I wanted in that moment was to seek comfort in Edward. He had done a brilliant job of helping me feel better and stronger; and, as a result, I had wound up relying on him for comfort.

By the time Edward and I pulled up to my apartment, I was absolutely exhausted from all the emotions overwhelming me, and all I wanted was Edward under me or over me, definitely inside me. As I was climbing out of the passenger side of the Cayenne, my phone rang.

I looked into the palm of my hand after I pulled my phone out of my pocket. "Shit," I said, when I saw who was calling.

"What?" Edward asked, rounding the back of his SUV and approaching me with caution. He seemed weary from the evening's activities as he slowly drew closer to me, watchful and careful. "Who is it?"

I felt myself growl. "My mom," I said, before reluctantly answering her call.

**~DL~**

I woke up the next morning groggy and slowly remembering the night before. After my mom had dropped the bomb that they were inviting themselves to Brockport for Thanksgiving, I forgot all about the conversation I wanted to have with Edward. I felt like punching something, or running 12 miles, or fucking the life out of Edward. I went with option C.

I rolled over and out from under my warm blankets. I had to pee and my mouth tasted like dog breath. I hadn't really had very much to drink the night before, but I was probably dehydrated from the combination of stress, alcohol, and Edward relentlessly pounding me into my mattress.

Jimbo was yelling at me the second I got out of bed. His food dish was empty. I swore to God he ate more than an adult human.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Jesus, I'm coming."

I scooped a handful of crunchies into a bowl and used a spoon to dollop some of that wet, stinky stuff he liked on top of it.

"Jimbo, this stuff is putrid," I said, then put a lid on the can and stowed the bag of crunchies in the cupboard.

I shuffled my way to the bathroom, glancing out the windows along the way. I still could not believe it was Thanksgiving already. The past few weeks had just flown by. Then, once I reached the bathroom, something occurred to me: I couldn't remember my last period.

I stopped cold inside the bathroom door. My mind raced around if I'd missed a shot and the last time I'd bought tampons. No, I hadn't missed a shot, but I had been wearing shorts and flip-flops the last time I bought tampons.

"Shit," I whispered to myself, lunging toward the top drawer of my bathroom vanity. "Where's that calendar?"

I rifled through the drawer until I found the pink Susan G. Komen Day Planner that my mom had given me the year before. I used the planner to chart my period and when I did my breast self-exams—neither of which I did often enough. Clearly.

I flipped frantically through the book looking for a recent red X then stumbled upon October 11th. I breathed a sigh of relief because October 11th was after the high school boy incident. But it was six weeks ago.

"Shit," I whispered again.

I closed my eyes and took a very deep breath. I tried not to think about Edward sleeping in my bed or my parents, who were likely in their car driving to Brockport right that second. When I opened my eyes, I pulled the top drawer open again, and they immediately settled on an unopened EPT box from when I tested myself monthly, half-hoping I'd end up pregnant with Royce's baby.

I checked to make sure the bathroom door was shut and locked before I focused my efforts on the test. In order to not freak the fuck out, I took my time opening the box, took out both tests and the full instructions. I laid everything out, unfolded the paper, and began to read.

The process was oddly calming. I didn't stop to think about how bizarre it was that I was in the most secure relationship of my life and yet I was the most freaked out about a potential pregnancy.

I washed my hands as I waited for the results and did some rhythmic breathing. After counting to 120 then adding another ten count, I blinked then looked down at the white plastic stick on the counter.

"Shit."

"Róisín?" Edward's voice startled me from outside of the bathroom. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I answered a little too loudly. "I'll be out in a sec."

"Okay," he said. "No rush, I was just checking on you…"

His voice trailed off, as I heard him banging around in the kitchen, probably trying to make coffee. I realized then that I was standing blindly in the middle of the bathroom with the positive test dangling from my fingers. I wasn't sure at all what to do next.

I carefully laid the test back down on the package that sat on the counter, looking closely at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, my hair was sticking up all over the place, but I didn't look pregnant. I shook my head free of thought long enough to wash my hands, eyeing the test all the while as if it might come alive and bite me.

After I dried my hands, I stared at the plastic stick some more, wondering what I should do with it. I couldn't just leave it sitting there; Edward would have to use the bathroom at some point. I decided to slip the evidence back into the box and sweep it into the drawer with the other still-wrapped test.

When I walked out into the living area I smelled coffee brewing, and it was as if I had flipped a pregnancy switch, because I was instantly nauseous.

"Hey," Edward said as he turned to greet me, a warm, sleepy smile on his warm, sleepy face. "Hungry? I thought I'd make some eggs."

His face fell once he finally caught my gaze.

"Róisín? Are you sure you're all right?" He set the carton of eggs he was holding aside and walked across the room to meet me, lightly gripping my shoulders and peering intently into my face.

"I'm…" I didn't know what to say, but I knew I had to tell him right then or it would take me 10 years. "I… I need to sit down."

"Okay." Edward ushered me to the couch, all concern and compassion, his warm hands carefully holding me steady. "Are you sick?"

I swallowed and nodded and closed my eyes. The longer I waited, the more I felt like I might vomit. Edward settled us both on the couch facing each other, his hands flying everywhere—checking my forehead for a fever, tucking my platinum, disastrous excuse for hair behind my ears, squeezing my hands in his.

"Your fingers are freezing," he said, twisting in his seat, looking ready to hop up and move again. "We should get you back to bed."

"No," I said, pulling him closer. "I have to tell you something."

He stopped fidgeting and looked closely into my face once again. He blinked, looked at the bathroom door, then back at me, some semblance of realization dawning on his face. His mouth hung open and he looked a little like a deer in headlights.

"I..." I paused and swallowed again, took a deep breath. "I took a test this morning."

His eyes focused on my mouth and his breathing was shallow. His fingers tickled my palms and he nodded eagerly.

"What kinda test?" he asked.

I felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. We were both breathing, but I felt constricted, and he looked like he might pass out.

"A pregnancy test," I whispered, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine—smoky blue-green, turning to fire.

His jaw clenched and his hands tightened around mine. He nodded again, encouraging me to continue.

"It was positive."

He kept nodding, his eyes dancing and his fingers rhythmically squeezing mine. Then his hands traveled to my wrists and up my arms until he was pulling me into his lap. I settled there, straddling his hips.

"Say something," I whispered into his neck. I felt rigid and on edge, but he was holding me so tight.

"I don't know what to say," he replied, shifting his hold on me. He wrapped his arms entirely around me, his hands in my hair and rubbing circles on my back. "Let's just sit like this for a minute, okay? I just wanna hold you."

I didn't have evidence that I should be concerned about Edward's silence or lack of immediate action, and I was actually slightly reassured by his arms around me and his tone of voice when he said  _I just wanna hold you_.

After a minute or two of holding and rocking and breathing, Edward finally spoke.

"So..." He breathed against my neck. "How far along do you think you are?"

For a frightening moment, I was convinced he was calculating days and risks and questioning if this was his baby. He knew about the high school boy, and Royce, no more than 11 weeks prior.

"Just a few weeks," I answered.

All Edward would've had to say was, "It couldn't be mine" and no one would've blamed him. Not even me.

But he didn't.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gently pulling away from me and looking me in the eye. "Right now?"

He looked concerned and scared and kind of anxious. But mostly tender, kind, and there for me.

"Scared," I answered honestly. "You?"

"Same," he answered with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "What are you scared of, do you know?"

I was scared of how he would react once this all sunk in, of how a pregnancy would affect our relationship and my new focus, of what my mother would say.

"My mom's gonna flip," I said.

Edward's eyebrows shot up then settled into a single-brow arch, telling me he was both surprised and aggravated by what I had said.

"How are we making this about your mother?" he asked, annoyance coloring his voice. "Isn't this about us?"

"It is; I'm sorry," I said, rubbing his arms, but climbing from his lap. I didn't feel like I needed to be straddling him to have this conversation. "That's just the first concern that popped out of my mouth."

He nodded and took another deep breath. "I'm scared, but I'm also… excited?" His eyes held mine, almost pleading; and everything changed for me in that moment.

The possibility of a happily ever after—love, marriage, babies, a white picket fence—was something I thought didn't really exist, at least not for me. I thought it was a myth, but there was Edward, looking me in the eye, telling me with his hands, and eyes, and words that a portion of that happily ever after was something he was excited about.

"You are?" I asked, relieved and scared and hopeful all at once.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling softly. He was relieved, too.

I looked at the clock and noticed that only about five minutes had passed since I had taken the test in the bathroom. A lot can happen in five minutes.

"I'm excited, too," I said. "But… I'm… what if…?"

"No  _what ifs_  right now," he shook his head and entwined our fingers. "Now, we just... take care of each other. Hold onto each other."

I nodded in agreement.

"C'mere," he said, shifting and pulling me to lie on the couch with him.

We laid in silence for several minutes, touching and breathing. My racing mind slowed and began to settle on the most pressing thing at hand. I couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks along, so all the things we should worry about and do were still a ways off; but my mother was coming to visit, and she had a sixth sense about these things.

"So," I began with a raspy voice. "I guess what concerns me most about my mom is that, she's gonna know something's up. She's practically psychic about these things."

"Okay," he sighed and stroked my hair. "Let's say she does figure it out; what then?"

"I don't even know," I answered, dumbly, feeling like a teenager, not wanting my mom and dad to know I was making out with my boyfriend on the living room couch. "It's just the last thing I want to tell her when she meets you—Hey, Ma, this is Edward, my Baby Daddy!"

Edward snorted then lightly smacked my ass. "Please, please don't ever call me that again." He laughed.

I laughed, too, but then sobered slightly.

"And my dad, and school, and the shelter—oh, God…" I buried my face in his neck.

"Shh." Edward rocked me and shifted us some more, pulling the throw on the back of the couch over us. "Let's just… wait."

"For what?" I asked, hoping that waiting would help, whatever that meant. I really didn't want to do anything but lay on my couch with Edward for at least a week.

"Apart from your mother's sixth sense, why does anyone but us have to know just now? Why can't we wait to tell anyone anything until you've at least been to a doctor?" He palmed my belly and slipped his other hand up into my hair. "A lot of people keep it private until they're in their second trimester."

He shrugged back into the cushions and slipped a knee up between my thighs until I was straddling his leg.

"Are you hitting on me right now?" I breathed and my head spun with thoughts of what was to come, within minutes and days and weeks, for Edward and me.

"I'm not gonna lie," Edward whispered, nuzzling my ear and touching his lips to my skin. "You being pregnant with my kid is fucking sexy as Hell."

I shivered and melted—icy, prickly heat spreading over my body.

"You're not worried?" I asked.

What if Riley was right? What if us only being together for a month turned out to be a bad thing and now we were bringing a child into the mix? Yet something told me he was wrong.

"Of course I'm worried—about a lot of things—but right now, I wanna sit with this."

He slid his hands under my shirt and down into my pajama pants, going everywhere, touching me everywhere. Mine wrapped around the soft, buzzed hair at the back of his head and I kissed him on the mouth, long and slow, and time stilled just for us.


	15. Not Making Things Up Redux

"A selection of meats and cheeses, Carlisle," Esme dramatically enunciated into the phone receiver, then shot me an exaggerated eye roll and snort. "Are you sure you and Edward didn't sneak a few of the  _special_   _cookies_  Kate sent before you left for the store?"

After my short and sweet make out session with Edward on my couch that morning, we'd taken a short nap. Then Esme had called around one, saying she was going to need some help cooking, and she needed the guys to run to the store. Carlisle and Edward didn't leave the house until five or so, and had been gone for over an hour, picking up last-minute supplies and some snack food for the evening.

Since we had such a large meal planned for Thanksgiving the following day, and my parents were getting in so late, Esme had suggested that crudités, crackers, and a meat and cheese tray was a simple solution for our Wednesday evening meal. Evidently, Carlisle found it not so simple.

"That's fine," Esme answered then paused, listening. "Genoa salami is  _fine_." She shook her head and laughed quietly. "Muenster, yes, great." She nodded her head encouragingly as if Carlisle could see her. "Yes, dear, Smoked Gouda, Baby Swiss, whatever, just pick some things out. You two have eaten food before; I trust your judgment."

I chuckled as I sipped my tea. When Esme had asked if I wanted to join her with a glass of wine, I had answered that I thought it best to stay entirely sober until after my parents arrived, since I hadn't seen them in months. She nodded, saying that she understood what it was like to introduce the new boyfriend to the family.

I wished I could tell her what I was really worried about, but Edward and I had agreed to not tell anyone until after I'd been to a doctor and we knew where we were and where we were going. I felt supported by Edward, for sure, but my parents' visit would be taxing enough as it was without a brand new pregnancy secret to keep. I felt like, maybe, I could wrap my brain around what I was feeling if I could just talk to Esme about it.

"And don't forget plenty of wine," Esme practically shouted into the phone, arching a brow and smirking at me, before disconnecting the call from Carlisle.

"What do you think they're talking about right now?" I asked, laughing, and putting my mind on something other than my anxiety. "Are they really that stressed out about cheese?"

I concentrated on music, as I scrolled through the remote access to the Apple TV, looking for something to lighten the mood.

"Guitars," Esme answered, as she inspected her baking bread. Then she closed the oven door and started wiping down the countertops.

"The last thing on their minds right now is cheese, which is why they have to call for confirmation," she continued. "If cell phones had never been invented, they'd probably still be standing in the deli, staring at cheese and talking about Stevie Ray Vaughan."

"Ooh!" I exclaimed. "Good call."

I grinned at Esme as I chose a music mix called  _Stevie Ray_. Then I skimmed through my Twitter feed while she puttered around the kitchen. We bobbed our heads along with the music until we heard car doors slamming outside.

I silently hoped it was Edward pulling up. It was becoming more and more apparent to me that I relied on him for support and comfort, but I felt okay with that, because he relied on me, too.

Esme walked across the kitchen and looked out the window. "Looks like your parents." She turned and smiled reassuringly at me. "Sure you don't want a shot of Jack before they reach the door?"

"I'm sure," I answered Esme, as I slid from my station on one of the kitchen island chairs, reminding myself of my recently discovered inner strength.

After my mom's call the night before, Edward and I had put our heads together about sleeping arrangements and other logistics. They were only staying Wednesday and Thursday night, so when we mentioned it to Carlisle and Esme, they both insisted it was no trouble at all to put my parents up, and I was incredibly grateful to them. The thought of my parents sleeping in the apartment where the specter of The Test might be lurking made me want to crawl out of my skin.

I followed Esme then stood back as she opened the door to reveal my quickly approaching parents, bags in hand.

"Hi, guys," I greeted them brightly—nervous, but surprisingly comforted by the familiarity of their presence.

"Rosie!" my dad exclaimed with a knock out smile and twinkle in his eye.

He looked great, and so did my mom. She was perfectly coiffed and, as always, smelled like soft powder and clean linen as she enveloped me in her arms. When she pulled back from our embrace, she held my arms out to my sides then looked me up and down appraisingly.

"My beautiful girl," she said, shaking her head a few times before hugging me again.

I closed my eyes and melted into her, feeling a slight sense of relief wash over me. I had been so jacked up and worried about what she would say when she saw me, like she'd be able to tell the second she laid eyes on me that I was pregnant and the shit would hit the fan.

Part of me wished she could see that I was pregnant, though, so I wouldn't have to defy Edward's and my pact, but someone could still know about it. Like I had wished I could tell Esme, I thought if my mom could sense it, it would make it less scary.

"Missed you," my mom whispered, then kissed my cheek before releasing me and allowing me to hug my dad.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy," I said, squeezing him tight. "Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darlin'," he answered, rubbing big warm circles on my back and swaying gently from side to side. He slowly pulled back with just one arm around my shoulders and retrieved the bags he'd dropped to the ground with his free hand.

"Come on in," Esme said, waving us inside the house.

"Thank you so much," my mom said as she shuffled past my dad and me. "You must be Esme."

"Yes," Esme answered with a smile. "I'm sorry my husband isn't here to greet you. He's out picking up some last minute things, but should be back soon."

I watched my dad shift the bags in his hands and move slowly into the kitchen. He carefully reached for the small satchel my mom had slung over her shoulder. She handed it to him with a smile then stood just inside the door with her hands clasped, as she glanced around the kitchen expectantly.

"Such a lovely home," she said. "You're very generous to have us, really."

"Rose has come to be like a sister to me," Esme replied with a genuine smile, closing the door after us. "It's our pleasure."

I stood there in Esme's kitchen looking at my past, my parents, and my present, Esme, and hoped they would all be a part of my future.

"Speaking of siblings, where's your brother in-law?" my mom asked coyly, reading my mind. "I'd sure like to meet this boy Rosalie has been going on about."

I rolled my eyes at my mother's characteristically passive aggressive fact-finding tactic. I absolutely had not been  _going on_  about Edward. I had barely had time to tell her his name after she invited herself to Thanksgiving dinner the night before. At least she was consistent in her behavior.

"He's with Carlisle, Mom," I said, glancing at Esme, hoping I didn't appear too helpless, but hoping she'd help anyway.

"Oh, good!" my mom exclaimed. "So, we'll see him soon, then."

"Yes," Esme said, shooting me a supportive smile. "Meanwhile, why don't I show you to your room so you can get settled?"

I didn't want to dump on Esme, but I was grateful to her for allowing me a quick minute to myself to gather my thoughts. My anxiousness over introducing Edward and trying not to talk about the baby were distracting me and making me feel a little woozy.

"While you're doing that," I started, "I'm just gonna run up and check on Jimbo and Masen before the guys get here, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Esme answered, then looked back to my mom, waving her forward. "Come on, I'll give you the nickel tour."

"That sounds lovely," my mom answered. "But, Rose, I wanna see your place, too, later."

"Sure thing," I said, as she followed Esme toward the hallway leading up the stairs.

My dad leaned in to kiss my cheek before he followed Esme and Mom out of the kitchen and up to the guest room.

"Hang in there, kid," he said with a wry grin.

Once they were out of sight, I grabbed my jacket from the coat rack, ducked out the back door, and quickly climbed the stairs to my apartment. Masen didn't stir much as he lolled on the couch and Jimbo kept a close eye on him from the top of the refrigerator—business as usual. I got myself a small glass of water and stood in the kitchen sipping it quietly.

My parents were in Carlisle and Esme's home, laughing and unpacking their bags. Mom was probably dropping subtle hints about how little she knew about Edward, while Dad craftily changed the subject to ask questions about the architecture and design of the house.

I tried to think of a time I'd ever been in a position like this one and realized that I couldn't recall when my family had met the family of someone I was dating. It had never happened. While I didn't love trying new things, this was a new thing that I, in fact, loved trying. I shook my head, accepting the fact that I was pretty fucking excited about it all.

I slowly finished my water and, for the hundredth time in 24 hours, I mentally walked myself through introducing Edward to my mom and dad. This time, I imagined the look of approval on both of their faces—not because Edward was good-looking and successful, but because he was a kind, caring man who made me happy.

I told myself over and over that that was the way the meeting would go as I zipped my coat back up and headed outside. Before I reached Carlisle and Esme's door, I heard the Cayenne pull up and park. I turned to see Carlisle and Edward climbing out of the car. Edward smiled and waved and popped open the back.

"Hey!" Carlisle called, dragging bags of groceries out of the back of the Cayenne. "Is that your parents' car?"

"Yeah," I answered, distracted by Edward walking toward me in his puffy, black jacket and big, black boots. His cheeks were flushed and he was smirking like the cat that ate the canary. He was carrying a cardboard box full of alcohol that I'd have to stealthily avoid for the next two days.

"Esme was showing them around when I went up to check on Jimbo and Masen," I told Carlisle.

"Oh, good," Carlisle answered. "I'll go introduce myself if you two can get these groceries put away."

"Hey, babe," Edward said, stopping beside me long enough to kiss my temple.

"Hi," I returned, absorbing his heat and leaning into his kiss.

The three of us went inside, and Carlisle unloaded the grocery bags on the kitchen island before darting upstairs to meet my parents. As soon as he was out of earshot, I pounced.

"Nice, Edward." I jokingly smacked his arm, and he cocked an eyebrow. "What, did you buy the whole store? You know I can't drink!"

"Relax," he said. "I bought you four kinds of non-alcoholic wine and some Pellegrino."

Then he grinned triumphantly, producing a bottle of sparkling water. "Everything you drink will be masked with sparkles!" He rounded the kitchen island and pulled me into his arms, kissing my lips much longer than he'd kissed my temple just moments before.

"Plus," he mumbled, running his nose along my jaw. "If we keep everyone else good and liquored no one will notice a thing."

I was genuinely touched that Edward had been so creative and thoughtful. I was also touched that he seemed to have missed me as much as I had missed him. I ran my hands inside his unzipped jacket and up and down his back. I loved so many things about him; his back was just one of the many things.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your parents, Róisín, but I'm  _really_  looking forward to having you to myself later," he whispered into my ear before he lightly bit my earlobe then pulled away from me with a wink.

I licked my lips as Edward returned to his job of unpacking the groceries. He palmed the rest of the bottles he'd picked out, headed to the wine fridge, and crouched to tuck them discreetly in the bottom, where, hopefully, they would remain well hidden.

"What's with the grape juice?" Carlisle asked, dashing my hopes as he peered over the refrigerator door and Edward's shoulder.

My eyes widened in surprise at his and Esme's sudden re-emergence through their own kitchen doorway. I was willing myself not to panic when Esme joined in with Carlisle's visual inspection of the contents of her wine fridge.

"Ariel Vineyards…?" Esme read aloud.

"I bought it," Edward answered without hesitation or sparing a glance in Carlisle and Esme's direction before calmly closing the fridge door. Then he stood and kept unloading wine and groceries.

"Yes, but why?" Carlisle persisted, and Esme cocked her head, looking like Masen the first time he met Jimbo.

Edward shrugged. "Why not?" He laid out the meats and cheeses, busying himself and avoiding their eyes.

"Don't you guys have any platters or anything for this stuff?" he asked. "Róisín's parents must be starving. We should get this food out."

Carlisle and Esme were both clearly baffled by Edward's behavior, but Esme snapped into action to serve her guests. She nodded to Carlisle, too, who joined her.

"Let's get some of tomorrow's stuff put away and the rest laid out so we can just chill." She turned a speculative eye toward me. "Your mom and dad are just getting cleaned up."

"Cool," I answered, acting casual, like I wasn't trying to hide that I was totally pregnant. "Thanks again for looking after them."

I flashed Esme a tight smile then Edward and I locked gazes, his eyes dancing with mischief as he bit his lip to keep from laughing. He looked just as ready to pop and spill our little secret as I felt.

Thankfully, Carlisle and Esme seemed to forget about the grape juice mystery once we all set to work on filling dishes and platters with food. Just as we were taking everything out into the sitting area, I heard my parents on the stairs. Within minutes, they were walking into the large open room, where Carlisle was starting a fire and Esme was choosing some new music.

I looked up just in time to catch my mom openly checking out Edward, and my dad slipping his phone into his pocket.

"Hey," I said, wiping my hands on a towel and turning to face them. "Want a drink or something?"

I was going with Edward's plan of getting them drunk as fast as possible so they wouldn't think I was acting weird. But then my mom totally looked at me like I was acting weird.

"Rose, honey," she said sweetly. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Oh!" I laughed nervously. "Of course…"

I cleared my throat and tossed aside the towel I was using to wipe my hands. Edward stood up straight, adjusted his thick, gray pullover and shoved his sleeves up to his elbows. I heard him swallow hard.

"Mom, Dad," I started, then I stopped and turned back to face Edward. When our eyes met I held my breath for just a beat before I exhaled on a smile, because Edward was looking right at me, smiling and sweet—God, he was perfect. I held out my hand and waited for him to join me.

His eyes never left mine as he took one step toward me and took my hand in his. I nodded then turned on my heel toward my parents.

"This is Edward," I said, swinging Edward's hand in mine at my side. "Edward, this is my mom and dad."

"Thank you both for coming," Edward said with confidence and warmth, reaching with his free hand to grasp my dad's outstretched palm.

I watched my dad and Edward do the thing that dads and boyfriends had done for generations, but it was a first for me. My mom looked him up and down again before quickly darting her eyes to meet mine. I gave her a small smile and she grinned wide.

"We have  _names_ , Rosalie," my mom teased. "You can call me Lily, Edward. And this is Richard."

"Lily," Edward said, nodding his head and releasing my dad's hand, reaching for my mom's. "I've heard so much about you and have looked forward to meeting you both."

All of my anxiety, all the possible scenarios, and all my hopes for what might happen when they finally met blended together to make a reality that was better than anything I could ever make up in my head. I had never been so proud to introduce anyone to my parents in my life.

**~DL~**

"Can we be naked now?" Edward muttered into my hair and neck once we'd climbed my stairs and locked my door and he was dancing me across the floor to my bedroom. "I like it when we're naked."

Masen barked once, loudly, breaking our sloppy waltz toward bed. He was standing in the middle of my apartment at attention, looking like a canine general, calm and stalwart, while Edward and I both knew what a goofy puppy he was underneath. I loved that fucking dog.

"Oh, sorry, dude," Edward said, looking surprised to see him standing there, as if he'd forgotten that he'd brought Masen over earlier.

"Lemme take him out for a bit," Edward said, unzipping my jacket and tenderly kissing my lips. "You get ready for bed. I'll be right back."

"'Kay." I giggled, slipping my jacket from my shoulders as Edward pulled a cap over his buzzed head then snapped Masen's leash to the d-ring on his collar.

I pulled my boots off and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. After I was done, I stripped off my clothes and wrapped myself in my robe, then made my way to the kitchen. I fed Jimbo and filled his and Masen's water bowls with fresh water before heading to my bedroom.

Cocktail hour, or whatever it was, could not have been easier. My dad seemed to like Edward immediately and fell into easy conversation with both him and Carlisle, talking about music and cars. I never knew my dad could play more than Old MacDonald on the guitar! The three of them turned out to have a lot in common despite their careers and age gaps.

Esme had kept my mom's glass full, similar to how Edward had kept mine full, and she kept the conversation flowing. Only one time did my mom zero in on me when Esme got up to use the restroom, and all she said was, "He's quite handsome, Rosalie" as she patted my hand and grinned knowingly. It was honestly almost too good to be true, but I had stopped telling myself that kind of thing a long time ago.

Getting ready for bed, I noticed it was a little chilly in my apartment, but I liked it that way when I slept, especially knowing that I could cuddle up to Edward. I didn't bother with warm pajamas; I just massaged some lotion into my elbows and over my legs before climbing under the sheets. I left my dresser lamp on as I snuggled into my pillows. Just as I was warming up a little and getting comfy, I heard Edward and Masen come in the door.

"Róisín?" Edward called.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Just makin' sure you're still awake," he said, a playful smile in his voice. "I'm gonna feed Masen and I'll be right there."

I imagined his smile as more of a smirk. A mischievous smirk. An oh-the-things-I'm-going-to-do-to-you-when-I-get-to-bed mischievous smirk. I squirmed and fretted and ran my hands through my hair. It felt like forever before he finally came into the dimly lit room.

"Cozy?" he asked, playfully. He'd taken his boots and jacket and pullover off, so he was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He was grinning crookedly and absently rubbing his stomach under the hem, the light colored cotton bunching around his wrist.

I nodded and squirmed some more under his gaze. My eyes wandered his body from waist to his chest, to his neck and jaw, to his beautiful, fiery eyes. I watched him pull his t-shirt up over his head, keeping his eyes on me, pinning me to the mattress.

"I missed you today," he said, getting rid of his jeans and his boxers.

"You were only gone a little over and hour," I answered dumbly as he climbed onto the bed and crawled toward where I lay under the covers in the middle of the bed.

"No," he said, pulling back the covers to expose my naked body, then climbing in with me. He burrowed in next to me, one protective palm resting gently over my belly. "I missed you because I had to share you with so many people on such an important day."

I rolled to my side to face him, keeping his hand on me with my own. I closed my eyes and felt his heat and his hand move to run up between my breasts, over my collarbone and shoulder, down my back, and over my hip. The emotions of the day caught up with me and suddenly my eyes were wet with tears.

"Hey," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. "Talk to me. How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," I sniffled, resting my hands on his chest, seeking solace in his arms. "It's been a big day. It was great, but so much happened..."

"Yeah," he said, stroking my back and kissing my forehead.

"But I guess I don't have to tell you that." I turned my face up to kiss his jaw. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he answered, then dipped to kiss my mouth and suck my bottom lip. "But I need you."

His hands wandered and caressed. He kissed me long and slow as he rolled me to my back and settled himself between my legs.

"You felt too far away from me today." He nuzzled and kissed my neck. "I think we need to be closer. I wanna be with you."

"I wanna be with you, too," I said, bringing my knees up to hug his sides.

He braced himself with one arm beside my head and didn't take any more time to slip inside me slowly and quietly. He felt so good and so right, and after such a challenging day this simple act of sex and love and expression was just the thing we needed to reinforce our world.

Our fingers entwined and we kissed slow and deep. We breathed and moaned and moved together like we were one body. Edward made me feel so loved, and I wanted him to feel the same.

But I didn't want to tell him I loved him just because I was pregnant or because he'd had my back through a difficult dinner with my bitchy best friend and unpredictable mocktails with my parents. I didn't want to tell him I loved him because I was desperate or because he felt  _so good_  and he made me feel good, too. I wanted the first time I told him I loved him to be when nothing else mattered but that.

I heard his breath shake as he dropped his forehead to mine. His pace was slow and steady—in and around and out, in and around and out. I let my knees fall open and felt my insides turn to liquid. My hands roamed his back, and I had never felt so much like someone was mine.

"Róisín…" he whispered, his voice tense and tight, pushing me all the way to the edge.

My orgasm slowly spread from my groin out to my toes and shoulders and fingers like something hot, and sweet, and fluid. I took him further inside as I rode it out and breathed hard. Then I closed my eyes, simply loving the way he felt, slick and hot. Then I grasped his shoulders with my hands as he rode higher, spinning and coming inside me.

He slowed and lay with me, slowly breathing. His voice shook when he said, "Róisín, look at me."

I opened my eyes and focused; his eyes were like an ocean storm. His hands gently splayed against the sides of my head, fingers slipping into my hair.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you, Róisín."

He didn't wait for a verbal response; he just cupped my cheek and kissed me again then moved. And suddenly I was crying again, and he was holding me tight, and I didn't have to say anything. And I didn't have to worry about sounding desperate or wrong, or jumping the gun.

"Me too," I agreed, whispering through our kisses and loving him back, holding his face in my hands.

I didn't care that we'd only been dating a month or that I was still in school or that someone might think I was a gold digger. Because I fucking loved him, too.

"I love you, too."

Edward loved me and I loved him back. And I was not making any of that up in my head.


	16. Thanksgiving Day

"Can we just have our own dinner up here today? By ourselves?" I asked with my eyes closed, soaking up the heat and steam of the shower, leaning back into Edward.

He was behind me, working shampoo through my hair and massaging my scalp. I didn't want to leave the warmth and comfort of the shower and Edward. I just wanted to be alone with him and have his hands on me until we had to leave my apartment for something essential to survival.

"You're still anxious about your mom?" he asked. "I felt like things went well last night."

I agreed; they did go well—from my parents loving him, to him telling me he loved me. It was certainly better than how things had gone with his parents in Chicago. I just didn't want to leave my apartment; I wanted to stay in the shower with him all alone, because I wanted him all to myself.

"I know, I just…" I paused and took a deep breath, moaning when his fingers massaged the back of my head and neck, then trailed down to knead my shoulders. "Oh,  _God_."

"Is that a good 'oh, God'?" he whispered with a smile and a kiss, skimming his lips over my neck where it wasn't soapy. He ran his hands down my arms and around my front, then used one hand to cup one of my breasts and the other to palm my belly.

I felt the tip of his half-hard cock graze the curve of my ass and lightly prod the narrow space between the tops of my thighs. My knees almost fucking gave out. No matter how many times we'd done it in the last 24 hours, since finding out I was pregnant, I still wanted him.

"Yes," I breathed, swaying from side to side, resisting the urge to bend over and push back into his hips. "Therein lies the problem. I don't want to have to stop what we're doing."

I hummed and rested my head back on his shoulder. I did want to have a nice holiday dinner with our families, though. And I wanted to show Edward off some more and bask in how impressed my parents were and how happy they were for me.

"What if I promise to keep touching you all day  _and_  we get to eat Esme's delicious Thanksgiving feast?" he said, kissing and nipping at my jaw with his lips. "Sounds like a win/win situation, don't ya think?"

His hands carefully roamed my body, not aggressively, just sweet and sensuous. He was keeping me at bay, allowing me to leave the shower with enough composure to have dinner with my parents and his brother and sister in-law.

"Your touch is always win, yes," I answered, smiling and loving his skin and lips and words. "And I do appreciate Esme's cooking."

"Well, then," he said, wrapping his arms more fully around me, curling his body around mine. "Let's get rinsed off and dressed so we can start eating sooner rather than later. I think I can smell apple pie all the way up here and I'm starving."

I did my hair and make up, while Edward took Masen for a walk. Before they got back, I threw in a load of laundry, not even thinking twice when I scooped up Edward's dirty clothes with mine. Once Masen was settled in the middle of my living room floor with a Nyla bone and Jimbo was at his post on the fridge, diligently eyeing Masen's activity, Edward and I grabbed our coats and headed down to Carlisle and Esme's.

It was colder than normal out, so I was hurrying to get inside. Then I felt a tug at the back of my jacket, just as we were about to open the door.

"Hey," Edward said, spinning me around to face him. "Kiss me."

Clearly it wasn't a request as much as it was a stating-of-the-obvious, because he didn't wait for me to act. He smiled as he dipped his head and touched his lips to mine, slipped his tongue just inside my mouth, and pulled my bottom lip between his teeth.

"I love you," he whispered between kisses, and I felt my skin heat up and tingle.

I reached up and around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, but before I could tell him I loved him too, Esme's voice interrupted us.

"God, you guys are fucking adorable."

Evidently, Edward's lips had the power to cause temporary deafness, because I hadn't even heard her open the door.

"Not to rush you," she said with a grin. "But Lily and Richard have been asking if we should check on you for the past 70 minutes."

Edward snorted, releasing me from his embrace. His cheeks were flushed from embarrassment and the chill in the air. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Sorry if they were any trouble," I said, turning to face Esme. "Thanks for keeping them company and entertaining them, though."

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong, they're no trouble," Esme answered, ushering Edward and I inside. "They just missed you."

I instantly felt guilty for bailing on my mom and dad just to get a few extra minutes with my boyfriend in the shower. Then, as I unzipped my jacket and felt Edward pull it from my shoulders, as if it were second-nature, much like my dad had done with my mom's bag the night before, I realized that I shouldn't feel guilty for living my life and being happy.

While Edward hung my jacket on the coat hooks and removed his own, I pulled Esme into my arms for a hug.

"Thank you," I said, holding her tight and remembering the first time Esme had hugged me.

"Not a problem," Esme answered quietly, pulling back and looking me straight in the eye. "Everything okay with you?"

Her expression was curious and probing. I was suddenly self-conscious again about Edward's and my secret, and realized today could potentially be even more difficult than the night before.

"Yeah," I answered. "I'm fine, just tired."

"I kept her up pretty late," Edward said, wrapping one arm around my waist and pushing my loose ponytail to the side with his other hand to kiss the side of my neck.

"Sweet." Esme rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the extra info, Ed."

"Hey, you asked." Edward laughed as Esme shook her head and walked out of the kitchen.

"Classy, Edward," I scolded.

"Look, I know how to handle Esme and Carlisle," he said, walking to the counter and flipping the switch on the hot water kettle. "If I make them uncomfortable with TMI, then they won't ask any more questions."

He shrugged and turned his back, then opened one of Esme's cabinets and started poking around. "Do you want some tea?" he asked.

I knew he was just as concerned for our discretion as I was, but he was obviously able to maintain a much cooler exterior. I hoped he was balancing me.

"Yeah, I want some English Breakfast," I answered crossing the room to look for honey.

"You can't have it," Edward said, all bossy and nonchalant. "No caffeine."

I felt my bottom lip stick out, because I wanted caffeine. Like, a lot. I was tired and cranky, and feeling fragile and achy—almost like I had the flu. I wanted to go back to bed and have my mom bring me tea and soup. And Edward was all "you can't have caffeine."

Jerk.

"Dammit," I whined and sighed. "Can I have Bengal Spice?"

"Yes," he answered. "And stop pouting, I'll make it up to you later."

He knew me so well. Seriously, no matter how many times he'd made anything up to me very, very recently, I would welcome more and more of him making just about anything up to me.

Edward brewed both of us some spiced tea—no caffeine, but lots of honey. I used a splash of vanilla soymilk to make it extra yummy. Just as I was getting ready to taste the delicious creation, my mom came into the kitchen.

"There you are!" she exclaimed.

"Morning, Mom," I said, sipping my perfect tea and shifting my eyes to Edward.

He was slouched back against the counter with his ankles crossed, sipping his tea. The mug looked like a child's teacup in his hands and he had that mischievous smirk on his lips. I grinned back at how adorable he was and daydreamed about him making the no caffeine rule up to me later.

"Well, it's almost  _noon_ , dear. I thought you'd never come down," she said, gently hugging me at the waist and kissing my cheek. "But, Carlisle and Esme kept us company. They're just lovely."

"Can I make you some tea, Lily?" Edward asked, eyes sparkling. He claimed he knew how to handle Carlisle and Esme, but judging by my mom's reaction, I think he knew something about how to handle her as well.

"No, thank you, Edward," she simpered. "Carlisle made some hot spiced wine and it is  _to die for_. I've been enjoying that."

"Oh, yeah—good stuff," Edward grinned, pushing himself away from the counter and sauntering toward my mom and me. "Glad you're having a good time."

"I really am," she said, giggling.

God, my mom was such a flirt. But, in her defense, Edward was laying it on pretty thick. In her buzzed state, and in my caffeine-deprived state, we were probably pretty easy targets for him. I wasn't sure if Edward's excessive flirtation was for my benefit or my mom's, though. Regardless, I was thankful—to Carlisle for getting my mom loosened up before we arrived without even knowing we needed it, and to Edward for being so distractingly charming.

"Come on, you two," she said, looping her arm through mine. "Let's go find your father."

I glanced over my shoulder at Edward as my mom dragged me out of the kitchen. He wandered behind us, carrying his tea and wearing that damned sexy, lopsided smile. We joined the others in the front room where my dad and Carlisle were each picking at a guitar.

I was baffled by the image of my dad with a guitar. He had one when I was little, but he only ever played around with it, singing kids' songs.

"Your father and Carlisle have been waiting for Edward," my mom said, releasing my elbow and continuing on to join my dad on the couch. "They said they could give us a little show!"

"Hey, Rosie," my dad said when he looked up and saw me. "Edward."

"Hi, Daddy." I smiled at how relaxed and natural he looked with a guitar in his lap, and Edward smiled and nodded.

"Grab your guitar, Ed," Carlisle said. "Rich and I've been playin' around and he knows a lot of the songs we know."

"Cool," Edward said as he walked past my mom and me.

I was seriously trying to wrap my brain around the fact that my dad could know the same songs as Edward and Carlisle. But I was really excited to hear them.

Edward set his mug on an end table then disappeared behind the carved wood screen in the corner of the room. When he came out from behind the partition, he was carrying a guitar case, which he set on the chaise, flipped open its latches, and lifted the top to reveal a thing of beauty.

I'd seen Edward's gorgeous guitar collection at his house, and I'd heard him play over the phone, but I had yet to actually watch him play live. My mom squeezed my hand and practically squealed like a 15-year-old; she wouldn't take her eyes off my dad. We joined Esme on the large sofa and I watched as Edward settled on the ottoman close to my dad and Carlisle.

The guys all picked out chords and hummed along with each other for a few minutes, as we grew more and more impressed by the musical prowess of our men. After a few minutes, they seemed to find a groove. It was upbeat and fun, and I recognized it right away.

My dad and Carlisle began to home in on their guitar parts, and Edward started tapping and slapping his guitar in a distinctive beat. Then he started to sing.

He was crooning that Ben Harper song I always turn up and sing along with in the car in his sexy, sweet, smoky voice and grinning ear-to-ear. He sounded so good and so hot—so much sexier than when I'd heard him sing along with songs in the car. I thought to myself at that moment how silly it was that he would sing a song about having to steal kisses from anyone, least of all from me.

My mom was  _blushing_  and Esme was bouncing and couch-dancing next to me. I was sitting there with my mouth hanging open, because I had no idea, even after everything I knew and could guess about Edward, that he could sing like  _that_. And he was having so much fucking fun.

My dad was having fun, too, and my mom looked like a teenager watching her favorite rock star. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to put into words how awesome that moment was, and how thankful I felt. Edward was so amazing, and Carlisle and Esme had welcomed my parents as guests into their home on a holiday without a second thought; not to mention that they'd introduced me to Edward in the first place.

"You love Ben Harper, don't you, Rose?" Esme asked loud enough for my mom and me to hear her, but not so loud as to distract the guys.

"Yeah," I answered, smiling goofily and not wanting the song to end. Or maybe I was secretly wanting Edward to sing that super sexy Dan Auerbach song. Then I remembered that we were in the presence of family members and thought maybe him singing something even sexier was maybe not the best idea.

When the song ended we all applauded and they patted each other on their backs. I reclined further into the cushions of the couch and sipped my tea as they changed gears and Edward started to strum his guitar. My dad followed his lead and they started to play  _Angie_ , while Carlisle got up to refill everyone's spiced wine.

"No thanks," I said when Carlisle offered me some wine. "I'm good with the tea for now."

Carlisle didn't seem to miss a beat as he moved on to fill my mom's cup, for which I was thankful, but then I started to wonder whether or not he knew why I was turning him down.

"Rose, you really should try this wine," my mom said. "It's  _awesome_."

 _Awesome_. My mom was saying awesome and she was trying to get me drunk. This couldn't end well. I was trying to think of a response to my inquisitive mother's inappropriate questioning and penetrating gaze.

"Okay," I said, scrambling to think of what else I could say without outing myself. Even if I lied and said I just wasn't feeling well, my mother had a way of finding out the truth. "But, I'll finish my tea first. We have a few hours 'til dinner, so I'll just pace myself."

"Oh, Rose," Esme said. "I forgot to tell you I saw a friend of yours at the hospital the other day. Riley? We put two and two together and figured out we both knew you."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, puzzled. "I wonder what he was doing up there."

"His boyfriend's sister had a baby," Esme answered, taking more spiced wine from Carlisle before he crossed the room to replace the carafe on the sideboard.

"Oh, I didn't know you worked at the hospital, too, Esme," my mom said. "I thought you worked from home on your consulting work."

"I do, but I also volunteer in the maternity ward at the hospital where Carlisle works. We get to see each other more often that way. It's only a few hours—just whenever they really need back up."

"That's so sweet," my mom said, and sipped her wine. "Have you and Carlisle thought about having children?"

"We'd love to," Esme answered. "But I'm not able to."

I was stunned. I had no idea that Esme couldn't have children. I remembered her story about her ex and my heart broke for her, thinking that her inability to have children was likely tied to the trauma he had caused to her body.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," my mom said. "I shouldn't have asked…"

"No, it's okay. We've talked about adoption, though. Once Carlisle's through with his residency, we'll focus more on our options."

"I didn't know," I said, not even thinking before I reached out to touch her arm.

My dad and Edward were finishing up with The Stones and Carlisle was making his way around the back of the couch where we sat. He made himself comfortable in their jam circle, but kept an eye on Esme before his gaze slowly shifted to Edward. Then he looked at me, and I realized I was holding Esme's hand with one of my own and my belly with my other.

**~DL~**

"Shit," I gasped to myself as I crouched, retching over the toilet in the half-bath just outside Carlisle and Esme's kitchen.

I guessed the vanilla soymilk wasn't settling right with all the fake wine I'd been drinking. Although, I hadn't been feeling well since I'd woken up that morning. I hadn't taken a lot of time to research what to expect in these first few weeks, but Edward and I did look at a few websites the night before and found morning sickness as one of the immediate symptoms of pregnancy.

Nothing Esme had put out for snacks looked particularly appetizing, except some of the cheese, which the Gestapo of pregnancy, i.e. Edward, had declared I couldn't have. So, I hadn't eaten a lot, and I wasn't throwing anything up, just dry-heaving. I thought maybe I'd check if Esme had some ginger ale. If not, I had no interest in going to the store to get some. The thought of jetting off to the store for ginger ale, of all things, drawing even more attention to my condition, made me that much more nauseous.

I took in a long, slow, shallow breath—just trying to relax myself and stop my stomach from roiling against my will. The more I thought about not wanting to be sick, the sicker I felt. Then I stood and flushed what little was in the toilet and turned to wash up. I was thankful that Carlisle and Esme had some mouthwash under the sink as well.

When I came out to rejoin our families, Edward was waiting just outside the door, and I could see Esme in the dining room, flitting around the table where my mom and dad and Carlisle sat.

"Hey," Edward said, gently pulling me into his arms. "How ya hangin' in there?"

I loved that man with everything I had, but I was so uncomfortable—pukey and sweaty—I really just wanted to be away from everything. Yet, I sunk into his embrace.

"I feel like shit," I whispered into his neck as he held me, rubbing light circles on my lower back.

"Why don't you go upstairs and lay down?" he said. "I'll tell everyone you have a bug or something. We work with kids; it's not so hard to imagine that you could pick something up at the shelter."

I kind of wanted to cry when Edward suggested I bail and go upstairs to my apartment. That kind of respite, not five minutes away, was tempting, but I'd hardly spent any time at all with my mom and dad.

"I wish I could do that without feeling like a selfish brat," I said, slowly pulling out of his arms. "Besides, I wanna spend more time with everyone. I'm having fun."

"Okay," he said, smoothing wayward strands of my hair that I'd somehow missed when I had cleaned up and tidied my supposedly low-maintenance hairstyle. I hadn't had a lot of energy to put much effort into my hair that morning, but, now, I felt like the ponytail almost made me look sloppier.

Then Edward gave me one of his sleepy, sexy smirks. "You're so beautiful."

I loved it when he looked at me that way—scanning my face, grazing my lips, and exploring my eyes. I suddenly stopped feeling sloppy.

"So are you," I said, slowly and gently rising up on my toes to kiss his lips. "Let's go see what I can eat."

"I should've gotten you some ginger ale, but I guess morning sickness can come outta nowhere," he said as we walked hand in hand down the length of the hallway toward the dinner table.

I squeezed his hand and smiled up at him before releasing him to take my seat. He moved quicker than me, though, pulling out my chair to help me get comfortable. I had started to feel more secure from Edward's undying support, so I didn't care anymore that my mom was eyeing me strangely. I couldn't blame her; she'd never seen me with a man, other than my dad, who treated me the way Edward treated me.

"Are you feeling alright, Rose?" my mom asked. "You look a little flushed."

"For goodness sake, Lillian," my dad interjected. "The girl doesn't want to hear that she looks  _flushed_."

"It's all right, Daddy," I said, shaking, my head, smiling and watching Edward take his seat next to me.

"Well, maybe she doesn't feel well," my mom said, eyes darting between Edward and me. "Why don't we let her speak for herself?"

"I'm fine," I said, feeling queasy again and fidgeting in my seat. "I'm just a little tired."

"Too much wine, perhaps?" Carlisle asked, effectively diverting the attention from the real cause of my flushing cheeks.

The tension was mounting in the room and I worried about what would happen if I let it go any further. I weighed my options of blurting out my pregnancy secret, cluing everyone in on why I was acting like a tweako, versus enduring the pressure of keeping it all to myself. Then I felt Edward's hand under the table gently gripping my thigh just above my knee.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, looking down at the glass in front of me and noticing that it was full of actual wine. My eyes grew wide and I looked up to see Carlisle's expression of concern.  _He knew_. I silently thanked him for warning me of the real wine.

"Yeah," I said, pushing the glass away from where I sat and closer to Edward. "Maybe I've had too much wine."

I didn't watch Edward's reaction as he grabbed the glass and began to stand.

"I'll get you some Pellegrino," he said, before kissing me then heading to the kitchen. "Be right back."

I looked up and noticed both my mom and Esme staring at me. My mom looked half-annoyed and half-concerned, and Esme looked like she knew exactly what was going on.

I was busted.

"Esme, this looks incredible," my dad said. "Thank you, again, for having us."

"You're welcome, Richard," Esme answered. "I'm just really glad you two were able to join us. It's been such a good time." Then she looked at me, lifting her glass and smiling. "This'll be a very memorable Thanksgiving."

I smiled back and searched for my water glass, then Edward returned, two glasses of Pellegrino in hand.

"Let's hope this tides you over 'til I can get to the store," he said as he resumed his seat next to me.

We all raised our glasses at once and toasted to a Happy Thanksgiving, and Carlisle stood to carve the turkey.

**~DL~**

After dinner and helping Carlisle and Esme clear the table and put away the leftovers, my parents decided to bundle up and take a little stroll around the neighborhood. I was surprised that they hadn't asked me to join them, but I was relieved, because I still felt like I needed to barf. As much as the fresh air may have helped, all I really wanted was to lie on the couch. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

"Mom and Dad are trying to Skype us," Carlisle's voice interrupted a perfectly relaxing moment when Edward had my legs propped in his lap at just the right angle and was applying just the right amount of pressure in just the right spot on my foot.

I almost groaned out loud, but I thought better of it. Edward's mom and I had not exactly gotten off on the best start. I thought, now that we had what was probably going to be quite a lengthy future ahead of us, I should reconsider my approach with Caroline Cullen.

"Ugh," Edward muttered, and I reluctantly pulled my feet from his hands and lap and pushed myself up into a sitting position.

"Happy Thanksgiving," I heard Carlisle answer the call. When I turned, there they were, the Cullen parents, in full color on Carlisle's 27-inch iMac screen. "Good to see you guys."

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, too," Caroline said, shifting in her seat and pushing her hair away from her face. "I wish we could have  _really_  seen you today, though."

Edward reached for my hand and pulled me close to him. I knew it was weird for me to be lying down while we talked to them, but I figured it was okay to let Edward put his arm around me.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Edward said, sounding surly and feeling tense by my side. I sensed that it was time for me to rally out of my whiney, morning sicky state and take care of him like he'd been taking care of me all day.

"Hi," I said with a small wave.

"Hello, Edward," Caroline said, just as surly and tense as Edward had been. "Rosalie."

I fucking hated the way she said my name.

"Yeah." Carlisle, ever fulfilling his role as the buffer, hopped in to turn the mood around. "We all wish we could've been together today, but we had a great meal and Rose's parents were here. It was really nice."

"Well…" Caroline paused, seeming to look around Carlisle and Esme's living room, but she could only see what the camera would capture. "Are they still there?"

"They went for a walk," Edward answered.

"Oh, well, that's nice." Caroline sighed into the awkward silence.

"Hey, guys," Esme called out as she re-entered the room from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. "Happy Turkey Day!"

"Esme, you must be wiped out," Daniel finally spoke with a relieved smile. "Make one of those boys get off their butts and help you with dessert."

"Hey, we all helped her clean up," Carlisle jokingly defended himself and Edward.

"Well, what about Christmas?" Caroline asked, taking control of the conversation once more. "Can you get away and come home?"

"I doubt I can," Carlisle answered. "The hospital at Christmas…" He shook his head then looked to Edward. "But, Edward?"

Edward was staring at the floor and rhythmically squeezing my hand in his. Then he turned his face to look at me. There was so much anger there—so much frustration and anxiety and fear. I didn't think twice before I squeezed his hand in answer, nodded my head, and smiled.

He smiled back, bracing himself and taking a deep breath. "Is that an open invitation?" He asked as he turned his head to look at the computer monitor.

"Of course," Daniel answered at the same time as Caroline said, "Well, you know we'd love to see you, Edward-"

"I'd also like to bring Róisín," Edward interrupted. He sat up straight and pulled me to his side, re-entwined our fingers with his other hand.

It wasn't like we'd talked about it every day, but I probably should have been more patient with Edward's mother. I probably should have paid closer attention to how nervous he was about the trip and me meeting his family. I probably should have realized what a huge fucking deal it all was.

But now I had to look toward the future.

Caroline hesitated and I held my breath, remembering how irreverent I'd been with her, how rude she probably thought I was. While I knew Edward and I weren't in a position to announce the pregnancy, it was important that I win her respect. And I wasn't fooling myself into thinking that would happen in one fell swoop.

"Of course," she finally answered, halfheartedly mimicking her husband's initial response. "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't welcome my son's companion into my home?"

I swore I saw Daniel roll his eyes, but Edward seemed pleased as he settled our clasped hands against my belly. I was slowly calming myself down, listening to Carlisle chat with his parents, when I looked up and saw Esme staring right at Edward's and my hands.

**~DL~**

"I just didn't know," I said with a defeated and tired shrug. "And now I feel, like, guilty. I mean, we weren't even trying."

Edward and I were on my couch, talking about what I'd learned about Esme just before dinner. He was reclined against the arm of the couch and I was reclined against him. He had his hand under the hem of my shirt, which was beginning to make me wonder if he was going to keep his hand on or near my stomach for the next 34 to 36 weeks.

"And," I continued. "I know she  _knows_."

"How do you know she knows?" he asked, chuckling quietly.

"She saw us," I said, clasping his hand in mine, emphasizing our joint amazement and protective instincts.

"Maybe I should scale back the caveman act?" he asked, not scaling back at all in making me feel safe and warm. "This isn't your fault, though, ya know?"

"I know, I just..." I sighed.

He kissed my hair and cradled my hips between his thighs, entwining our legs.

"It was rough on Esme, for sure," he said, his voice quiet with an even pace. "But she's in a good place now. She went through all the tests and she's researched her options. And she's resolved that she doesn't have to be pregnant and give birth in order to be a great mom."

I smiled sadly. I could totally hear Esme saying those exact words. I burrowed further into Edward's warmth, turning my sad smile into a happy one.

"Besides," he said, with a smile of his own tingeing his voice. "I guarantee you that she's gonna be stoked to be an aunt."

"You're probably right about that," I replied. "I think Carlisle knows, too. He was looking at me funny."

Edward laughed. "We can be paranoid all we want, but we still have to wait till your appointment on Monday." He started peppering kisses over the exposed skin of my jaw and neck.

I stretched my neck and groaned at the feel of his warm lips on my skin. I turned in his arms to face him and repositioned myself to straddle his hips.

"You know what blows my mind?" I asked.

"Your fucking amazing body?" he answered gripping my hips and gently thrusting his hips up between my legs, slipping his thumbs under the hem of my shirt and touching my bare skin. "'Cause that's what blows my mind."

I felt myself blush pleasantly and I answered his thrust with a slow grinding of my hips over his.

"No, that's not what I was thinking of, but  _yours_ on the other hand..." I languidly ran my hands down over his shoulders and chest and abs. "But, seriously, I can't believe my mom had no clue."

"How do you know she had no clue? Maybe she's just being discreet."

I snorted with laughter. "That's probably the funniest thing you've ever said."

My mom was a lot of things, some of them pretty great, but discreet was not one of them.

"I'm glad I'm so entertaining for you." He laughed with me, then got serious. "Change of subject: are you nervous about Christmas?"

I could tell he was nervous about Christmas, so I was determined to be his balance.

"I don't know," I said. "So much happened today, and I'm really starting to buy into the idea of just taking this thing one day at a time."

His eyebrows shot to the ceiling and a smile slowly crept over his face.

"Róisín," he said. " _That_  is probably the  _smartest_ thing you've ever said."

I smiled back at him and slowly slumped over his body to kiss his forehead, jaw, and lips. We made out on the couch until Edward decided to make some things up to me. Thank God.

And I really was trying not to think too much—especially about something that was a month away. As I'd learned very recently, a lot can happen in a month.


	17. Happily Ever After

The Monday after Thanksgiving, I had an appointment with my gynecologist. Edward had cleared his calendar for the day so he could take me to class then come with me to the appointment. We had an awkward moment where he assumed he'd be in the exam room with me, and I assumed he'd be waiting in the waiting room.

His insistence to be involved in every step was very sweet, but a little overwhelming because it made everything that much more real and significant, and kind of stressful. I didn't go so far as to say that, exactly, but he sensed my anxiety and backed off from accompanying me to the exam room.

I was lucky to have someone who genuinely cared about me—I knew that from my various contrasting experiences—but the grueling process of waiting and all the unknowns were almost smothering me with doubt and anxiety.

"And you say your mother's judgmental," I mumbled as I fastened my seat belt, resenting him for drinking a cinnamon latte right in front of me, still not ready to go cold turkey off caffeine.

"What…?" Edward clenched his jaw, then calmly twisted his steaming paper cup into its holder and turned in his seat. He pulled his sunglasses from his face and glared at me. "Please explain to me how looking out for our child's health is being judgmental."

"Well, you said I couldn't have a latte like I was a murderer or something," I replied.

"First of all, I never said you couldn't; I said  _shouldn't._ " That trademark temper of his was simmering just under the surface. "Secondly, I do not think you're a murderer or anything else of that kind-"

I scoffed.

"What in the actual fuck, Róisín?" He raised his voice. "I said you should wait to talk to your doctor first before drinking caffeine or eating those cheeses. And Jimbo's litterbox-"

"Whoa—what?" I said, whipping my own sunglasses off. "I know you don't like Jimbo, but I am not getting rid of him because of some old wives' tale!"

"I don't like Jimbo?" Edward looked shocked and confused. "When did I stop liking Jimbo? I love that cat."

"I know you just put up with him." The second I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I regretted saying them. I was projecting a whole bunch of shit onto Edward. I was scared of all those unknowns, and I wasn't used to having someone unconditionally backing me; I was used to doing shit, like my first ever gynecologist's visit, on my own, then telling friends or my parents about it later.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, all the mean, unfounded, irrational accusations I had hurled at Edward had twisted his expression into a grimace. He sat slumped into the driver's side door, stunned.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean any of those things."

He breathed heavily and steadily—his gaze darting around the front of the Cayenne. Then he slowly looked up and made eye contact with me again, and the look in his eyes…

I never, ever wanted to be the cause of that kind of pain for him. I'd seen that look when we visited his parents—in the driveway when he realized they weren't there to greet us, at brunch when his dad showed zero interest in anything he had to say—and, again, when we talked to them on Thursday. As tough and strong as Edward was on the outside, he was a vulnerable boy underneath it all. And I was a piece of shit.

"Edward…" I reached out for him, needing to feel him, to soothe him and me both.

He accepted my outstretched hand, entwined our fingers, and let me come close to him. I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck and squeezing him.

"It's okay," he said quietly, comfortingly, and I immediately nodded in agreement, sniffling into the crook of his neck. "We're gonna be fine. But, we're takin' it one day at a time, remember?"

"I know, I'm sorry, baby." I kissed his neck then pulled back to look him in the eye.

"There's no excuse. I just forgot that you're on my team."

He nodded, understanding. "And I love you," he said, his face soft and pleading.

Ghosts of the heartache and disappointment that come from family and friends being torn apart because of choices and loyalties hung heavy behind his eyes. Edward was honest and devoted and he lived by his heart. He loved with everything he had, and he loved me.

"I love you, too," I said, my lip trembling.

It was suddenly crystal clear to me that the rare and precious thing Edward and I had would continue to grow and become more intense, and we would have it for the rest of our lives. It wasn't fleeting. It wasn't about common interests, or sex, or even about the child I was carrying; it was about the way we fit together, balanced each other, and helped each other to be the best that we could be. And, after seeing all of that in just a handful of weeks, I could not fucking wait to see us in five years.

"You're so perfect." I spoke quietly as I kissed his lips and smoothed my hand over the soft, buzzed hair on the back of his neck.

He laughed just as quietly as I spoke. "Nobody's perfect."

"You're perfect for me," I said, holding his face in my hands and kissing his lips.

We calmed each other's nerves and gave each other comfort until we realized if we didn't get going we'd be very late for my appointment. I climbed back over to the passenger's side, buckled my seat belt, and we were on our way.

Unlike any other doctor appointment I had ever had, I was admitted immediately, leaving Edward in the waiting room with four pregnant women and a stack of magazines. As Dr. Saunders's lab tech drew a few vials of my blood, I couldn't contain my anxiousness. He didn't ask any personal questions, but I babbled on and on about my boyfriend and my job and the fact that I was graduating in the spring.

Once he was done taking the samples he needed, he showed me to an exam room where he instructed me to put on the smock and wait for Dr. Saunders to bring the results and conduct a cursory physical exam. After I was changed, I pulled out my phone.

 _You should see this smock I'm wearing,_  I texted Edward.  _Sexiest thing ever._

I snorted to myself as the message was sent. About 30 seconds later, I got a text back from him.

_Hot… Picture?_

I lifted the phone to take an aerial view image of myself sitting on the exam table—that angle that chicks always use online when they're trying to make themselves look skinny and hot. The thought of the picture I was about to take being some kind of flirty get-to-know-me tool made me laugh out loud as I sent the image to Edward.

_Damn, that IS hot… wanna play doctor?_

Through the ringing in my ears from the thought of playing doctor with Edward, I heard someone at the door. I stashed my phone just in time to see Dr. Saunders enter the small room.

"Test is positive, Rose," she said with a smile, my file in her hand. "I'm glad we talked on Friday so we could be appropriately prepared for this result. How are you feeling?"

"Good," I answered. "I mean, I've been sick and stressed, but I feel like just knowing is a step in the right direction."

She nodded as she flipped through my file and took a seat on a small stool beside the exam table. "Nausea and exhaustion are absolutely normal," she said. "What isn't normal is pain or bleeding, so call me if either of those occur."

"What about coffee?" I blurted, feeling a little guilty and selfish about making such a priority of proving I was right about something that Edward felt strongly about.

"You can have it in moderation," she replied, making notes. "I'd recommend sticking to no more than 20 ounces a day."

I nodded, and we proceeded with all the routine checks that go with an annual physical exam. We also talked about the litter box thing not being as scary or dangerous as some of the stories I'd heard. After the exam, we calculated that I was just about four weeks along. As she stood to leave the room, Dr. Saunders said she'd call in a prescription for prenatal vitamins to my pharmacy for me to pick up. She patted me on the shoulder and shot me one last reassuring grin.

"I'd like for you to come back in about six weeks, so we can do an ultrasound, okay?" she asked.

"Yep," I agreed with a nod, sliding down off the exam table. "I'll make an appointment before I leave today."

Once the door was closed, I dressed and grabbed my jacket from the coat rack before leaving the room. I was still feeling nervous about how and when to start telling people and about what would happen with school and my indecision over what to do after I was done with school, but just talking to Dr. Saunders was a huge load off my mind.

When I walked out into the waiting room, I found Edward slouched in a chair that was too small for him, reading something on his phone. I remembered then that I hadn't responded to his "playing doctor" text and felt my face flush as I approached him from the side. When I touched his shoulder, he looked up at me with wide eyes and immediately pocketed his phone and stood to meet me.

"Hey," he said, reaching for me. "How'd it go?"

"Good," I answered, burrowing into his warmth. "I just need to make an appointment for an ultrasound in a few weeks."

"Yeah?" he said. His face was lit with hope—that look again that set my mind and heart at ease the morning I told him about the test I'd taken.

"Yeah," I answered with a smile. "You wanna come with me to the desk so I can schedule around both our calendars?"

He grinned back and nodded, and we made our way to the receptionist's desk to schedule the ultrasound in the coming new year.

In the car on the way to the pharmacy, Edward used his handy dandy Bluetooth to engage in responsibly returning a client's phone call, and I replied to a text from Alice. Since her visit, and on her insistence, we'd been keeping in contact—not that I would've argued with her even if she hadn't utterly demanded it. Now that I had more information from the doctor, I was going to have to keep our correspondence to texts only for the time being, because if anybody besides Edward could get me to blurt out the truth, it was Alice.

Edward's call continued as he parked in the pharmacy lot and we exited the car to enter the building. Before he was off the phone, while we were standing in line, I got a call from Riley that I probably should've ignored.

"I can't talk long," I said in lieu of an answer. "I'm at the pharmacy, and you know they give you dirty looks when you use your phone here."

"Why are you at the pharmacy?" he asked. "Did Mr. Wonderful give you crabs?"

He snorted at his stupid joke.

"Gross," I said. "No."

"Are you dying?" He chuckled, and I heard him light a cigarette.

"No-"

He interrupted me. "Pregnant?"

Shit.

"Hello?" Amusement tinged Riley's voice. "Rose, dear, unless your phone died, I'd say we have a lot of catching up to do."

I looked up to see that Edward had ended his call and I had his full attention. I must've been wearing an alarming expression on my face because he was frowning as he mouthed "what?" and cocked his head to the side.

I tried to shrug it off by rolling my eyes and shaking my head—probably looking more like I was having a seizure. I mouthed the word "Riley" and Edward nodded, seeming to understand that if Riley was involved, any drama was probably disproportionate.

"I gotta go," I told Riley. "Call you later?"

"You better," was Riley's only answer before I quickly disconnected the call.

I nervously caught Edward's gaze again, but this time he didn't look so convinced that the call was nothing. He quirked an eyebrow as the attendant at the pharmacy window spoke to us.

"Name, please?" he asked, so Edward and I approached the counter.

"Rosalie Hale," I answered.

The guy nodded and smiled politely before turning to walk behind a partition.

"So, what's up with Riley?" Edward asked.

I paused, wondering how to tell him that I'd let the cat out of the bag, even if it wasn't intentional.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging and not making eye contact. "He, um… he kinda guessed."

"Guessed…?"

"About the baby," I said, finally looking him in the eye.

"He guessed?" Edward blinked. "What is he, psychic?"

"No—just persistent. I said I was at the pharmacy and it was his third guess."

Edward snorted and rolled his eyes. "What were his first two?"

"STD and death."

Edward threw his head back and laughed out loud, running a hand over his face, but his laughter quickly calmed to a chuckle, as he reached out and pulled me into his side.

"Okay, well…" He paused and kissed my forehead. "This is where it begins then, huh? The big reveal?"

"Yeah, I guess," I replied with a sigh and a reasonable amount of relief that Edward wasn't angry. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because I blew our secret and you wanted to wait till the second trimester."

In all the times Edward stood by me, in all the times he seemed happy and trusting in me, I was still unsure of this one last hurdle. I was afraid of what the truth would do once it was out, because it wouldn't be ours anymore. It would no longer be our secret; and what if that secret, the mystery and excitement, was the thing that was keeping us together?

"I know," he said, kissing me again then releasing me when the attendant was returning to the window. "But I realized how unrealistic that is. I mean, we have eight more weeks before your second trimester; I doubt we're gonna be able to keep it a total secret until then."

We paid for my prescription and headed back out to Edward's car. We were outside in a rare ray of sunshine when I caught his lopsided grin and sparkling eyes; he could've lit up a football field. The love that lived there reminded me that the connection between us wasn't so fragile as to be broken by telling a harmless secret. Edward was so beautiful to me and nothing was going to change what we were to each other.

I honestly even forgot how we probably appeared to the outside world, because I was so used to my up-close and personal view. I'd always found Edward attractive, even before I really knew him, because of his kind eyes and soft smile. But to the casual observer, Edward was probably intimidating as fuck with a buzzed head and crooked nose, tattoos up and down his arms. I was so thankful that I'd seen through all of that to see him my way—my sweet, gentle boyfriend, under the rough exterior. And I was even more thankful that he'd seen inside me as well.

"So, you ready to tell your mom and dad?" I asked teasingly as we climbed into the Cayenne.

His grin spread wide and he laughed softly, shaking his head. "I'm not so sure I'm quite ready for that, but we'll see when we get there."

On Tuesday, I went to my classes and planned out a clear study schedule for finals, creating checklists for what needed to be done for each class and signing up for group study sessions. That night I went to my shift at the shelter. I had realized earlier in the day that getting ready for finals was going to be a heavy workload, especially considering the extra Saturday shift I'd taken on at the shelter. So when the kids were all settled into studying, I broached the topic with Wes.

"Hey, Wes, I think I might have to shuffle some things around to accommodate studying for finals."

"Well, let's take a look," he said. "Do you have your calendar with you?"

"Yeah." I reached into my bag and pulled out the schedule I'd put together that afternoon. "It gets kinda crazy the week after next for about 10 days straight."

He nodded, flipping through the big scheduling book on his desk where we kept all of our shifts and any notable events that we all needed to pay attention to.

"Would it help for you to take those 10 days off completely? Because I think we can probably handle that now that Edward's here on Saturday nights."

Edward had really stepped up over the weeks and become more a part of the nightly routine on Saturdays. Of course, most of his non-teaching time he spent with River, but all the kids responded well to him and he was comfortable there.

"If you can spare me, yeah; that'd be great."

I was grateful for the respite as Wes shifted some things around over that 10-day period.

The next several days flew by with an unfamiliar and packed schedule ahead of me. December was a blur of studying, and tests, and slowly admitting to our closest friends—Riley, Carlisle, and Esme—that I was pregnant. But I honestly felt like I did well on my tests and I was looking forward to the time off from classes—even if I wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing Edward's parents.

On the Thursday before Christmas, Edward and I hopped a flight to Chicago for a three-day visit. Before we left, we made plans to celebrate Christmas with Carlisle and Esme when we got back on Christmas Day. When we landed at O'Hare, we discovered that Edward's parents had sent a car for us, which set Edward the fuck off, even though he said it didn't surprise him. He was so upset, and he wouldn't stop apologizing to me.

"Baby," I said, gently laying a hand on his between us on the leather interior. "I'm okay with it. You don't have to apologize to me."

"Well, someone should," he answered, angry and hurt by his mom and dad's seeming lack of concern to pick us up themselves. "God knows she won't."

The rest of the car ride was filled with silence and Edward wringing my free hand in his.

When we pulled up at the house, the lights were ablaze—the place seemed to be alive. It was obvious they were home, which further infuriated Edward.

"Can you fucking believe them?" he asked, throwing the door open once the car was stopped then storming around the back of the vehicle to retrieve our bags from the trunk.

As I climbed out of the backseat, I thought I saw movement in my periphery, but when I turned there was nothing in the front window of the house but light streaming through the drapes.

"Thanks, Peter," I heard Edward say to the driver as he scooped our bags up and walked around the side of the car to meet me. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I replied, reaching for my satchel so Edward didn't have to shoulder everything alone, then I gave him a reassuring smile.

His returning smile was tight as we turned to walk to the house together. Just as we climbed the few steps to the front door, it swung open to reveal Kate.

"Surprise!" she yelled, throwing her arms wide without spilling a drop from the champagne flute she held in one hand. "And Merry Christmas!"

"Hey," Edward said, standing still and staring blankly, loosely holding my hand.

People were practically coming out of the woodwork, pouring down the staircase and into the foyer from every room in the house.

"Come in, come in!" Edward's mom appeared from the crowd, pushing people out of her way. "You two must be exhausted. Tanya? Tanya! Where are you? You said you'd help Rosalie get settled."

"I'm here, Aunt Caroline." Tanya pushed her way to the door, smiling and waving us inside, dozens of people milling around just inside the door, craning their necks and peering around doorways to get a look at Edward and me.

"What the-" Edward asked in a daze.

"Surprised?" Tanya asked, chuckling.

"I'm sure you'd like to get freshened up." Caroline turned to me. "Right, Rose? You really do look exhausted."

Just when I thought this sweet surprise was an indication that she was turning over a new leaf, she tells me and 20 other people that I look exhausted.

"Mom?" Edward asked, blinking twice. "What-"

"It's our annual Christmas party, Edward," she said, distracted and seemingly put off by the bags we'd brought with us all the way from New York for our three-day visit. "Will someone help with these bags, please?"

"Mom." Edward asserted himself further, then thanked the guy he called Ben for taking our bags.

"Second bedroom on the left, Aunt C?" Ben asked.

"Yes, Ben," she answered. "Oh, and take this, too." She snatched the satchel from my shoulder and handed it to him.

"Mom!" Edward raised his voice, but no one seemed to notice, except Caroline and me.

"What, Edward?" She whisked two glasses of champagne from a tray that was offered to her then handed them to us. "Why are you acting like this? We have our Christmas party every year on this same date. Now, take a glass of bubbly and relax, because you're home for the holidays!"

People actually applauded her and someone began to chant speech, speech, speech. There was a resounding clinking of glassware, and I honestly felt like I was in a movie set.

Edward and I both stood stunned in the foyer, bagless and clueless. I felt gross, because, even though I don't fly in sweat pants like I see a lot of people do, I don't exactly dress up. And I hadn't even used my flat iron that day to tame the frizz that was fanning out of my ponytail and all around my face.

I looked at Edward, expecting him to be straight up pissed, but instead he looked apologetic.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath then glared at the champagne in our hands before discarding it on a nearby table. He turned back to face me, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry about this. I totally forgot..."

"Rosalie," Edward's mom interrupted us for what felt like the dozenth time since we walked in the door. "Dear, let Tanya take you upstairs so you can get…" She waved her hand around in front of me, and I rolled my eyes. "Spruced up. Trust her; she's very good. She can work miracles."

I had told myself that I was going to use this visit with his mother to win her respect and to reassure her that no matter the circumstance with Edward and me and the baby, that I was the right person for her son. But, right then, I was about to tell her to go fuck herself right in the ass without lube.

"Come on, Rose." Tanya came up beside me. "Ben took your bags upstairs already. I'll just help you unpack." Then she lowered her voice. "And I'll bring plenty of wine."

"Perfect," I responded wryly, realizing right then that there was no way in Hell I was getting out of Chicago without Edward's extended family being added to the list of people who knew our used-to-be secret.

I scanned the immediate vicinity and discovered that Edward had been pulled to the side by a couple of guys, but he'd kept his eyes on me. As Tanya and I made our way toward the staircase, I leaned into him and kissed his jaw.

"I'll be back in a flash," I whispered, kissing his lips on the second round, because he'd turned to face me. "All gussied up."

He smirked and his eyes danced with mischief—hopefully an indication that his mood was lightening—as he hooked me around the waist, pulling me into his side.

"Can't wait," he said, kissing me a little longer that time. "I am sorry about the surprise, though."

His face was serious again and he really did look contrite. I grinned and slipped out of his embrace before he could introduce me to his friends, or relatives, or whoever the guys were, and I followed Tanya up the stairs. She was carrying a bottle of Veuve in one hand and two flutes in the other. I sighed internally and braced myself for the conversation I was about to have.

**~DL~**

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be," I said, moaning as Edward's fingers dug into my shoulders. "She was actually really excited."

"I'm sure she was," he replied. "But, you do realize that Kate and Irina both know now, too, right? And probably Carmen?"

I sighed in defeat, because I did realize that, but I had no idea what else to do.

_"So," Tanya said as she closed the door behind us then rushed over to the desk that sat under the window in Edward's childhood bedroom. "First, we need to toast."_

_She set the glasses down and quickly unfoiled and popped the bottle of Veuve. As she partially filled two flutes, I shucked my jacket and started to remove my boots. When I was considering disappearing into the bathroom to avoid the confrontation of alcohol, Tanya handed me a glass of bubbles._

_"To you and Eddie," she said with a grin._

_I wanted to readily accept the glass and her toast because of the genuineness of her gesture and the simple sentiment. But, in the end, I didn't even have to refuse her offer, because my slight hesitation told her everything she needed to know._

_"You're pregnant," she whispered, then clamped her free hand over her mouth, her smile crinkling the edges of her crystal blue eyes. "Holy shit!"_

"She just said it, ya know?" I half-whined. "I would've had to flat-out lie to get around it."

"I know, I know," he said, dismissing the conversation and slipping his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. "Let's just…" He kissed my neck and wrapped his arms around me. "Let's get a warm shower…" He kept kissing my fucking neck. "And climb under the sheets."

"Yes," I sighed and turned into his body. "Let's."

The next morning there were far fewer people in the house, but it was still kind of overwhelming. The out-of-town cousins had spent the night but were leaving after brunch, so some of the pressure would be alleviated. And I remembered how much Caroline loved brunch.

"Auntie C..." Ben, who I had grown to humorously appreciate the night before, called to Caroline from the table where we'd all gathered. "Your brunch is the best brunch; it's the best brunch we know."

He was sing-songing what he said to her, and I realized his joke must be an inside joke because everyone in the room was laughing—even Edward's dad.

"Thank you for having us," he continued without singing, as he raised his Bloody Mary in a toast, and we all followed suit. "As always, you are a most gracious host and this has been yet another unforgettable Christmas."

"Oh, Ben." Caroline pretended to be humble as we toasted her and she sipped her mimosa.

Edward leaned into my side and whispered in my ear. "Just one more day."

I let out a short, quiet laugh and snuggled closer against him. He hadn't taken his hands or eyes off me since we arrived at his parents' house, except when I was upstairs with Tanya. There were even a few times when he fell into his instinct of putting his hand on my belly, which I think deep down he knew was going to tip people off.

"Rosalie," Edward's mother beckoned me. "Why don't you come help me wrap a few last minute gifts while the boys clean up the kitchen, hm?"

Edward's hand stilled on my hip and we looked at each other blankly. I gained my composure before he did, though, and he continued to look like a deer in headlights as I turned to follow her out of the room.

"Happy to help," I replied.

Caroline and I wound our way through rooms and corridors in utter silence until we arrived at an unassuming door in the corner of the house. Caroline opened the door to reveal a sunny room with a large counter space and several bins with ribbon and other textiles spilling from them along one wall. The room was filled with splashes of color, and texture, and shape. In the center of the room was a large island workspace where a few ordinary boxes and rolls of holiday wrapping paper sat.

She waltzed across the room and I followed in awe of our surroundings. It looked a bit like Santa's workshop.

"Wow," I said, sounding like and idiot, but I honestly could not believe what I was seeing.

Caroline "perfectly coiffed, seeming to never color outside the lines" Cullen had a craft room. And it was glorious.

"This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it," she replied, as she set to work arranging boxes and paper, tossing tape, scissors, and brightly colored ribbon to the island workspace. "Ribbons are my specialty. Would you mind wrapping the packages in paper for me?"

I settled my hands on the flat surface and nodded before picking up box number one.

Caroline was a woman who knew her talents and what she wanted to do with them. In all our differences, I vowed to keep that in mind and to respect it. And I hoped I would learn other things about her; I hoped we were on the road to learning respect for each other.

We had been working quietly and amiably for a few minutes when she broke the virtual silence with a din of speculation.

"My son is hovering around you like you might disappear into thin air," she said, deftly flipping a package as she entwined silken ribbon in a complex pattern around its body. "And I haven't seen you drink anything but juice or tea since you've been here."

She flicked her gaze to me, eyeing me up and down. Her expression was surprisingly free of final judgment, but full of wondering inquisition.

"On the one hand," she continued, returning her visual inspection to fastening an elaborate Christmas bow. "I could assume you're playing the prima donna like all the rest and he's doting on you so you won't leave him."

Her voice held tones of bitterness, loss, and regret—the same tones and feelings that Edward showed whenever he would move beyond his anger over the dissension in his family. The aftermath of Siobhan and Edward's relationship marked them all with heavy emotion and consciousness. I saw the destruction in every exchange of terse dialogue and wary glance between Edward and his mother.

"Maybe you're on the verge of a break-up—hesitation and awkwardness?" She paused in between packages, holding one of the final products aloft, studying her work. "But, I highly doubt that, judging by the way you touch and look at each other."

Her gaze shifted to study me instead of the package. Yet it wasn't the way every mean girl I ever knew had studied me before her; it was softer, less critical. And I didn't back down for one second. I stood still and tall under this mother's scrutiny.

"On the other hand," she continued with a gentle shrug. "Maybe you're pregnant."

She went back to her work, and I remained silent. I looked down at the package in my hands, not knowing exactly what to say to her without Edward by my side.

"You've only been together a few weeks-"

"Two months," I interrupted, suddenly emboldened by her accusation, forgetting that I wasn't ready for the fight.

"Okay, eight weeks," she said, stopping her creative process for our dramatic stare down. "How far along are you?"

"About that," I answered quietly not breaking eye contact.

She eyed me thoughtfully. "Well, you picked a good man," she said. "The Cullen men are good men; I can attest to that."

I suddenly remembered the story of Edward's great-grandmother, and her Irish fighter, and the man who Edward said married her for love and honor. Edward was both of those men for me—my love and my knight—and even though I hadn't planned for things to work out this way, I wasn't about to believe I was exempt from deserving someone to care for me the way Edward did.

"I didn't do this on purpose," I informed her, because I felt it needed to be said.

"I know that, Rosalie," she answered, and I believed her. "But Edward… he's been through the wringer with women."

She shook her head and inhaled deeply. This was a protective mother, a mother who loved her son and wanted the world for him. I wanted to tell her I knew what he wanted and I wanted the same thing.

"Siobhan?" I asked.

"To name one," she answered, tying the current ribbon a bit too tight, creasing it unattractively. "To think I actually reached out to her—tried to help her."

I could hear all the words she took for granted and didn't say out loud. She was the kind of woman who believed that all women were naturally calculating and manipulative, and she was okay with it. She believed that was her and every other woman's nature and right. Even as I understood her, I would never be her. But I could play her game.

"Edward said he felt like he and Siobhan could make it if they tried." I defended his actions and tried to give Caroline the benefit of the doubt. "You were trusting your motherly instincts and trying to do the right thing in supporting him."

"Well, that was part of it—I love my boys; they're my life—but I also wanted to be sure that if she were to have a Cullen baby that it would be healthy and well-cared for under any circumstance."

Right then I knew where I stood with her. I knew that she'd accepted me on the same terms I had accepted her. She would never care for me the way I had hoped the mother of the love of my life would, but she accepted me as the mother of his child. If I was no longer an obstacle, I could only hope she would focus her efforts on mending things with Edward. I would make that my objective from that point on.

"They're lucky to have your love and support, Mrs. Cullen," I said.

She smiled at her task at hand. "And he's lucky to have you," she quietly replied, slowly bringing her small smile and gaze up to meet mine.

We shared a moment that I would never forget—a moment of practical and utilitarian solidarity in a room full of color and ingenuity—and I knew I had an ally in Caroline Cullen. We had the same goal in mind; we wanted comfort and joy for the boy we both loved.

**~DL~**

Edward and I flew back to Brockport on Christmas Day just in time to have dinner and exchange presents with Carlisle and Esme. It was a nice, quiet, low-key evening; and even though I kept the thought to myself, I was thankful for the contrast against the hustle and bustle that Edward and I had endured in Chicago, however fruitful that trip had been.

The following week was equally relaxing. I spent a few hours here and there researching my post-bachelors degree life. It was becoming quickly apparent to me that there weren't a hell of a lot of jobs out there for an average chick with a basic Psych degree.

"I'm gonna have to look at grad schools," I mumbled as Esme buzzed around her kitchen.

We seemed to spend an awful lot of time in Esme's kitchen. But she liked to cook and I liked to eat, so it worked out—especially since I'd spilled the beans and told her about the baby the month before.

"Yeah?" she asked, as she came up next to me and peered over my shoulder at the laptop in front of me. "What kind of degree are you thinking? Where would you go?"

"Not sure," I said, closing out of the depressing jobsites and turning to face her.

"But I think I'll start by talking to Wes and Gunn—see what they recommend."

"That's a good idea," she agreed, then looked over her shoulder at the pot of fudge she was cooking on the stove. "Don't be surprised if they offer you a job."

"You think?" I asked, surprised and intrigued by the prospect of not only getting a job right out of college, but getting a job I loved.

"Edward says you practically run that place," she replied with a grin, then turned her back to me as she stirred her chocolaty confection.

"Well, that's a bit of a stretch, but…" I paused and thought about how much I loved being there and how the experience had impacted my life and my studies in just the past few months. "I really do feel like it's a significant part of me—that I've learned a lot and could learn even more from it."

Esme nodded and turned back to smile at me over her shoulder. "Then you should definitely talk to them."

I nodded back at her then swiveled in my chair and opened a blank Word document. I was going to outline a plan for myself and share it with Wes and Gunn. And I'd need Edward's help as well.

**~DL~**

New Year's Eve was a Saturday, so Edward and I both worked at the shelter before we headed back to Carlisle and Esme's for a late dinner. Carlisle had to be at the ER by midnight, so we did our countdown at 11 p.m. and helped Esme clean up the dishes, then Edward and I headed over to his place for our own celebration.

We had sparkling cranberry juice and some of Esme's insanely delicious fudge spread out on his coffee table. Edward poured us each a bit of the ruby-red bubbles and handed me a glass.

"What did you want my input for?" he asked, settling into his couch, one arm slung across the back, inviting me to take my place at his side.

I had told him earlier that day that I wanted his input on an idea that I had. Considering Edward's past insecurities and our random miscommunications—like him thinking I was going to break up with him—I was careful with my word choice and hadn't just said "we need to talk."

"I have a proposal for Wes and Gunn," I answered, settling myself on the couch, facing him with one leg tucked under my body. I was excited and on the edge of my proverbial seat.

"A proposal, huh?" he asked as he sipped his juice.

Edward's face was colored with an interesting mix of amusement and restraint. He looked like he was trying not to say something.

"Well, not so much a proposal, I guess, but more of an outline of what I think the shelter needs, what I can bring to it, and how I can benefit from it."

"So… a proposal," he replied, tilting his head and blinking innocently with that little smug smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, yes, smart ass, but I'm nervous about this. Will you just take a look at it? And tell me if I'm assuming too much?"

He grinned and leaned forward, pecking me on the cheek. "Yes, I will." Then he leaned back into his seat, his teeth gripping his bottom lip.

I rolled my eyes again, laughing, because he obviously thought I was being silly.

"Thank you," I said sweetly. "Here."

I handed him the printed copy of the proposal, and he set his glass on the windowsill behind the couch before accepting the papers from my outstretched hand. He turned forward on the couch and took a deep breath, shooting me one last grin and a wink before diving into the text.

His eyes scanned the papers critically—thoughtfulness dancing over his features. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the last page, where I had listed out several other options if Wes and Gunn were not interested or able to bring me on staff for the proposed concept.

When he was done reading, he shuffled the papers back in order and placed them flat on the table in front of him. For seconds that felt like really fucking long minutes, he was silent, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

"So?" I prodded, craning my neck to try and get his attention. "What do you think?"

He pulled at the inside of his cheek with his teeth and his hands were fisted in the way they always did when he was contemplating something intense. He took another deep breath before turning his head to look me in the face with a neutral expression.

"It's well-thought out," he said with a nod. "Clear, concise, direct."

"And?" I encouraged him to say more.

"And…" He paused then shook his head once and sighed with what sounded and looked to be relief. "I'm surprised you aren't considering NYU; they have a great Psych program."

Edward had watched me quickly grow from the girl who used to make every single life decision based on the proximity of her boyfriend and his wishes, into Róisín, the "strong, beautiful woman, who deserved to rise above anything holding her down." It would have been hard for us, and it would have hurt him, if I had proposed the option of attending NYU or a more distant location for my Masters Degree. He wouldn't have been surprised, though. He would have been proud and helped me make my plan a reality.

Which was the very reason I never even considered it. Edward loved me, he wanted me, and he respected my hopes and dreams. He wanted the very best for me and our baby, just as I did. And I wanted to be with him while I continued to learn and grow and make a life for myself and us. My decision to stay in Brockport was not just to stay with my boyfriend; it was for our life together.

"NYU's six hours away," I said, shrugging slightly, watching him carefully. "That's a pretty long commute."

He let out a short laugh at me making light of the situation. Then he turned his gaze to meet mine. His eyes were soft and gentle—God, the way he looked at me—as he continued to wring his hands where they hung between his knees.

"We'd be able to make it work, though, you know that," he stated—a smug smirk playing on his lips. "Just for the record."

I smirked back and nodded in agreement. I did know, but I didn't care. I had some really great options right there in Brockport.

"Okay," I said, finally reaching for my bubbly, red juice. "I'm gonna give them each a copy of this on Tuesday."

I burrowed back into the couch, but Edward still hadn't moved. He sat wrestling his hands and biting his lip. I wondered what he was thinking, and my stomach flipped when I thought for just one, brief moment  _what if he wants me to go?_

"I love you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I love you, too," I answered—my heart pounding in my chest.

Without looking at me he got up from the couch and left the room. My palms were sweating and my skin went cold.

"Edward?"

He was back within seconds with a new look of determination on his face as he approached me with even, intentional steps. He stopped in front of the couch where I sat frozen, curled into the corner cushions. Then he dropped to one knee.

"Róisín," he started to speak, then hesitated, looking unreasonably annoyed by the flute of bubbles in my hand. He reached for my glass, silently asking me to hand it to him; I did, and he set it aside then grasped my hand in his.

After a deep breath and shifting his position, he began again, looking me straight in the eye.

"Róisín, you have been an unexpected but unbelievably welcome source of strength and stability for me. You challenge me and comfort me. You turn me on and you calm me down. You listen to me and you trust me. I could never ask for more from a lover and a friend and the mother of my children."

He lifted and opened his left hand to reveal a small, black velvet box. He let go of my hand then flipped open the lid to reveal the most perfect ring I had ever, ever seen.

"And I want you to be my wife."

He pulled the twinkling red and white ring from the black velvet box and reached for my hand again. I was crying and nodding my head and muttering nonsense, as he slipped the ring on my left hand. I sank to the floor between him and his couch and threw my arms around his neck.

"Yes, yes, yes," I chanted. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I kissed his neck and he held me close. We sprawled out on his living room floor, and he wasted no time getting us undressed. Poor Masen huffed at us and got up to leave the room. We both laughed at him then got back down to the business of consummating our engagement.

Later, when we were tucked into bed and I held my hand above where we lay comfortably wrapped in each other's bodies, we watched as the stones winked in the moonlight beaming through the windows.

"It was my great-grandmother's," he muttered, kissing my temple and entwining our legs.

"The one who was in love with the Irish fighter?" I asked.

He hummed by way of answer, and I was overwhelmed with emotion by that simple answer.

"Thank you," I whispered, turning and burying my face in his neck. "Thank you for trusting me and being patient and loving me."

He laughed quietly and held me tight. "It's not like it's hard," he joked. "You make this love thing pretty fuckin' easy."

I knew that wasn't entirely true; easy wasn't the word I would have used to describe us, and I knew we had a whole life of challenges ahead of us to contend with. But I also knew that I would never want to do it without him. He just made everything better, prettier, more colorful and full of dimension.

"You make me happy," I said in response, nuzzling his throat and brushing kisses over the fine hairs on his chest. "So, so happy."

In the early hours of the morning, we made love again, setting our sights on the dawn of our new life together.

**Author's Note:**

> End notes: Thank you to TheHeartofLife, SindandShame, and OneLilHopeful for the breaths of fresh air. Thanks to Einfach_Mich for the banner. And thanks to MsKathy for the red pen and constant encouragement.


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